Canis Lupus
by Mage the Observer
Summary: When a young drifter finds himself on his grandfather's old farm, he decides to try and bring it back to life. Now, if he only knew something about farming... or socializing, for that matter...
1. Teaser: The Drifter's Path

Alone. The first directive in my mind's program reads: "Never Forget, You Are Alone." I look around, I talk to people, sometimes I even feel that they might be my friends. The problem is, no one would want to stay with me for long. On first glance, I'm a cool enough guy, witty and classy, always willing to give what I can.

But after a while, people realize that I don't have that much to give. My only real talent seems to be in adapting to things. Even then, I only adapt. Anyone can run faster, hit harder, or do a better job at something than I can. I'm just dead weight to most people after a while, and they know it too. That's about the time that I end up deciding to leave.

I know that I can't run forever, that sooner or later I'll have to find a way to survive where I am, when I am. But as long as there's no one that I really care about, and no one who really cares about me, there's no reason to hang onto what might have been. Things were pretty bad for me when I finally decided to run last. For a time, I almost felt that my journey, my odyssey, was finally over. I really should've known better.

Wandering into Mineral Town again was barely registering on my mind. I'd visited a few times as a kid, but it'd been a long time ago. I had no life here, and no one really knew me in this area. Well, not since my grandpa died a couple of years back, anyway. Even when I heard about that, I couldn't seem to care. The old man was the one person I'd really been close to, and I still couldn't feel anything about him dying. All I knew now was that I had a job to do here.

And, I hoped that maybe I could find some solace in my heart. This town, this farm, they were the only ties I had to better times now. I'd lost touch with my family, and I had no real friends. My school life had been a horrible war against the administration. They hated disruption, and I represented it. The other kids were told to stay away from me, and I just learned to keep to myself, and try not to feel anything.

Of course, now that I had nothing to feel about, the only thing I found I really wanted was to feel. Once in my life, just once, I want to feel. To truly feel the endless joy I know exists in our world. To love, as I know I can, and not pay for it. To care without the constant fear of some horrible cosmic vengeance against even hoping that I was allowed to. "Never forget, Magnus. You are alone." Those words haunt me, with a horrible dread that they may yet be true.

I've never spoken them. No one's ever said anything like it out loud to me. But the actions people have taken, the words they have said(or worse, didn't say), implied that that was what my future. Magnus Smythe, lifelong loner, drifter, and loser. Even now, just because I can't simply do everything, get along with everyone, and always be Mr. Perfect, in public or in private, I always feel like I'm being branded an outcast.

As I walked into the ruins of my grandpa's old farm, I felt that weigh on my soul more than usual. The field was overgrown with weeds, rocks, and dead wood. The outbuildings were dilapidated, a prayer the only thing holding them up. The house was alright, but the screen door was falling off the hinges, the paint was peeling, and the downstairs windows were broken. This land was as dead as the man who once ran it, and walking around it made you feel like a ghost.

I sat on the steps and considered my future. Well, I could go home. My parents would always take me back in, and they probably hadn't moved. There were about a dozen places I could go that wouldn't run me out of town on a rail, melodrama aside. The only problem was, all those places were part of my past. Any one of them would be a step backwards, and I didn't want to go that way. Not while I had a future to look to, at least. A way to at least _try_ moving forwards.

I looked at the run down farm more carefully, with eyes that saw more than simply what was there. I saw a field of grass stretching to the edge of the horizon. Cows and sheep grazing in the springtime air, finally out of the barn after a long winter. The barn and chicken coop were fully repaired, and the size of both increased. I saw crops growing on the other side of the pasture land, promising to feed the world, or at least as much of it as they could reach. I turned around and saw a farmhouse properly fixed up, a large, comfortable place a man could call home.

And, for a few seconds, I let myself visualize not being alone in that home. A wife, a couple of kids, a few pets wandering around... I shook my head, bringing myself back to what was.

_It's a future worth hoping for,_ I thought to myself. _Might as well get started._


	2. Man About Town

**Canis Lupus**

_**Chapter One: Man About Town**_

--

**1st Year, Spring 1**

Since I was pretty sure that just trying to start working would probably get me run out of town in less time than it would take to give out an expletive, I decided to head to the town hall and let the mayor know who I was and what I was doing. Heading along the main road through town, I noted the feel of the small village I was staying in now. Most of the area was old Victorian houses, with lots of carefully painted detail and nice, roomy yards. When planning this town out, someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure that people had _plenty_ of room to grow into.

Sitting on the edge of a fountain in the main square, I looked to the south, at what was clearly the town church. Beside it, on a lot about half the size as that of the church itself, was the local cemetery. _I'll have to remember to pay my respects to Grandpa Smythe later,_ I thought to myself as I looked at the simple, quiet stonework in the graveyard. To my right was a small, open structure, with a sign above the gate reading 'Saibara's Smithy.' Behind the blacksmith's shop, I noticed a house that was probably where this Saibara lived.

Turning a bit, I saw a brick box across the road from the smithy that looked significantly newer than the rest of the buildings in town. Despite this, it didn't seem like an eyesore, the brickwork having just enough detail to show that whoever had it built did indeed care about appearances, he just didn't want them to get in the way of the building's practicality. The red cross symbol painted on the door indicated that it was the town's medical clinic.

Looking to the left of the church, I saw another, longer box, built along the same lines as the clinic but with a different purpose. The sign above the door read 'J & S Supermarket.' Clearly, that was going to be the place to go for food and sundry goods. Turning further towards my left, I saw the small cluster of houses that formed the eastern border of the square. My farm, and a couple of others, were on the other side of those houses.

_**"HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, KID?!"**_

_SPLASH!_ The suddenness of that call, combined with the fact that I'd been twisted in my seat looking at the pretty houses, meant that I'd managed to slip, lose my balance, and fall face-first into the fountain that marked the southern edge of the town square. Dripping wet, I summoned all of my dignity and stood upright, giving the overall impression of a clown on the wrong side of the seltzer bottle. Thankfully, I heard a good-natured chuckle somewhere behind me. If someone was laughing, I was pretty sure that I wouldn't be thrown out of town today.

...Well, at least not without a good reason for it, anyway...

I looked up at the cop that had sent me into my sudden bath, and took a sudden wondering to how the HELL he got away with calling me kid. Sheesh, 6'4" he might be, but he was my age at the _most!_ The face under his officer's cap was still lined with a touch of baby fat, and not only was he skinnier than I was even _after_ allowing for the six inch height difference, it was clear that he was green as grass. No cop yells at someone. No decent cop, at least, and I'd met enough to know.

Relaxing my stance a little to offset his too-keen official demeanor, I decided to give him some lip. Hell, if he threw me in jail, at least I'd know where the town hall was. In a place this size, there'd only be one municipal building serving as the town hall, courthouse, and police station, complete with holding cells. Besides, Officer Poster-Boy here had it coming.

"I was contemplating drowning myself, officer. I'd just convinced myself not to when someone screamed in my ear and my hand slipped."

The policeman looked puzzled. "Really?" he asked, with absurdly absolute belief in his tone.

I cracked. Unfortunately, I can't play along forever.

"No," I said, "but that was a _lot _more entertaining than the truth!" And at that, I broke up laughing.

_You're going to jail,_ I told myself in my mirth, _but that was __**so**_ _worth it!_

Fortunately, I wasn't alone in my amusement. The good natured chuckle behind me had both resumed and intensified. "Don't arrest him, Harris," my new friend chimed in, "you walked right into that shot."

"He was loitering on public property!" Officer Harris exclaimed, obviously both embarrassed and enraged.

"I was sitting on a fountain taking in the scenery. Only an absolute rookie too keen on making an arrest his first day would attempt to arrest someone for that!"

"Why you..."

"Easy Harris," 'Chuckles' said, "He just happens to be right. Even if he was doing something suspicious, yelling at him about it was uncalled for. You're supposed to be the good guy, Harris, not The Authority."

"Rick, I..."

"Why don't you head back to the town hall, Harris. You probably need to get started on the mail run anyway."

Harris, looking like a defeated puppy, went off to the right into a small side street, presumably toward the town hall. I turned and looked at my rescuer, apparently named Rick.

"Heh. Thanks for the save there."

"No problem," Rick replied, "although next time you probably shouldn't be such a smart-ass until you've gotten to know people. Next time I probably won't be there to bail ya out."

"Please. I knew exactly where I was going there."

"Yeah, directly to jail. Do not pass _GO,_ do not collect $200."

"Exactly. Tell me it wouldn't have been worth it though."

Rick chuckled again. "Totally worth it, I'll admit. I'll introduce myself, since I think we'll be getting along for a while. The name's Rick Hunter, and I live on the chicken farm just outside of town." He re-adjusted his glasses. "I run it too, for the most part."

"A lot of responsibility. Let me know if you need help, I'll pitch in when I can. The name's Magnus Smythe, and I think I'm your new neighbor."

Rick's eyes boggled at this. "You sure about that? I mean, I'm sure you're related to old Joe Smythe, but it isn't as easy as _all that _to just take over a bit of land and start farming. Doesn't happen overnight, y'know."

"Well, I can start today. I could have that place up and running within three years, mark my words."

_"Three years?"_ Rick had looked shocked when I'd introduced myself, now a feather could've knocked him backwards. "Have you _seen_ the shape that place is in?"

I smirked. "Yeah, I have. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but where's the fun without a challenge?"

"It'll be a challenge alright," a new voice quipped. Apparently it was 'Sneak Up on the New Guy' day. "_The Ultimate Ninja Farmer Challenge,_ all-or-nothing for Power, Glory and Wealth!"

I chuckled good-naturedly at the cheap reference. "I think I'd prefer _The Iron Farmer Challenge,_ myself. Creating a farm seen _nowhere_ else within _only_ three years!" Then I turned around, and looked into the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen.

For an eternity, I was lost in the green of those eyes. Deep pools of forest green, drowning me in a sudden sense of perfect bliss. I shook my head to bring myself back out of la-la land, and just managed to hear Rick's next volley in our hopelessly geeky conversation.

"He's right, Karen, _Iron Farmer_ sounds a lot better. _Plus_ it means I can come up with really fake-sounding commentary in English instead of Japanese."

Karen turned to Rick and smirked. "That's just because you're too lazy to learn. I'm sure that if you _really_ loved me, you'd be a lot more willing to go the extra mile."

_Ouch._ Figures. For the first time in ages I've felt an attraction to someone, and she _had_ to have a boyfriend. Worse, I_ liked_ the guy. Naturally, I was willing to be quiet, rational, and let things take their course.

Unfortunately, the less-rational part of my mind was aware what had just happened; and it was screaming in bloody agony already. _Damn it, not again! Why don't you __**EVER**__ learn!?_ It screamed on, calling me all sorts of horrible names for being such a damned softie.

Since this sort of mental conflict tended to reflect badly on my social graces, I decided to back out before anything bad happened.

"Much fun as this would be to continue, I'd better get to Town Hall and scare the mayor for a bit. Nice meeting the two of you, see you again soon." And with that, I backed away as casually as I could, trying not to betray exactly how close to screaming out loud I was.

--

Heading in the same direction that Harris went, I got as far as the back road before I had to sit down and lash out against the nearest solid wall.

_Damn it,_ I thought, _I __**don't **__need this again! I'm attracted to a girl I meet out of __**nowhere,**__ she's __**already**__ got a boyfriend, and I __**like**__ the guy too much to want to just wedge in, even if my code would allow it!_

Hm. I think I'd better explain that real quick. I don't play by a lot of rules, seeing them mostly as complications from people who don't have the strength to succeed without them, or as obstacles set up by people afraid of losing what they took because they're too weak to let go.

Nevertheless, I do have three rules that I don't _ever_ break if I can avoid it.

Rule One: Stay out of debt, whenever possible.

Rule Two: _ALWAYS_ keep your word.

And Rule Three: _**NEVER**_ interfere in someone else's relationship, _especially_ if you have personal feelings for one of the parties involved.

Any time I've broken those rules, I've regretted it with a great intensity. Those rules represent lines that I can not and _will_ not cross, under _any_ circumstances.

_*Sigh* _And now, I wanted to break Rule Three all over again.

The innocent stone wall I was leaning against took another hit.

"Doesn't that hurt?"

Yet another mystery voice, but this time a quiet one.

"Only the first time. After that, my poor, broken hand can't hit hard enough to damage itself further."

The guy who'd been leaning against the wall stood up and held his hand out. I looked him over, from his wrinkled khakis to the baseball cap on his head. Without further hesitation I took the hand offered.

Since my right hand had been the one I'd been beating the wall against, he smirked at that point and called me a smart-ass. Since it was true, I thanked him for the compliment.

"I see we're probably going to get along pretty well. The name's Gray."

"Magnus. I'll hold you to that. Better learn to string more words together though, or I might end up talking you to death."

Unfortunately, that was probably the wrong thing to say. And if Gray hadn't flipped, I might never have noticed.

"_Geez_," he said, "Why does **everyone** get on my case about that?! Just because I'm _not_ going to talk you to death with all the boring and _stupid _details of my life and _everyone_ else's..."

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa!_" I threw my hands up in surrender. "I was _kidding,_ ok? I'm _sorry!_ You don't have to get so defensive..."

He backed up a bit, and looked a little embarrassed. "Sorry man, I've always been a total write-off when it comes to being Mr. Perfect Socialite."

I smiled. "That's ok man, I don't think I'm up for consideration in that category either. I've got some business to take care of over _that_-a-way," I jerked my thumb back, indicating the direction of the town hall, "So we'll pick this up later. Sound good?"

He smiled back, obviously relieved. "Yeah, I'd better get back to work anyway. I'm-"

"Skip the apologies, or we'll probably wind up arguing which one of us really deserves it. Let's just call ourselves friends and not worry about it, ok?"

"Alright, that sounds good."

"Right. Anyway, see ya later man."

"Right, later."

And with that, he walked into the smithy, looking reasonably light-hearted. Shrugging, I went along on my way as well.

_Well,_ I thought, _I guess I'll have someone to grump with in the really bad moments..._

_...Hope I don't talk his ears off __**too **__fast..._

--

After that idiotic conversation, I started heading further down the road, toward the town hall. A nice old Greek revival structure, I guessed that this 'Temple of Wealth' was probably the oldest building the town now; its contemporaries long since lost or demolished. Then again, since most government architecture tended to lean toward Greek revival styling well into the fifties, it was hard to be sure.

About the time I got to the front door, Harris walked out of it with a bundle of letters.

Looking up, he saw me and smirked.

_Oh boy; here it comes..._

"Here to turn yourself in, miscreant?" Yup, time for the cop to get his own back. At least he wasn't holding a grudge.

_"NEVAR!"_ I replied, striking a cheap defiance pose. "Actually, I just need to see the mayor so I can get some official stuff sorted out."

"Alright, go ahead. Dad's upstairs. I'd show you to him myself, but I'm already behind on the mail delivery."

"That's fine. Sorry about the cheap shots earlier."

"It's ok. I _did _have it coming to me... Just watch your mouth next time, or I'll have you locked up faster than you can say _'Problem, Officer?'"_

I smirked. Yup, definite cop. Complete with cop humor.

"No promises," I said, waving him off while I headed into the building.

--

Inside, the town hall was clearly more a residence than an office. Although there were a couple of work desks by the door, neither was occupied at the moment. I didn't know where the holding cells were, but I was guessing that there was more than just a wine cellar below this old mansion.

_Harris must've been __**the**__ kid to play_ _'cops & robbers'_ _with,_ I thought to myself as I climbed up the main stair to the second floor.

Obviously, this place had been the main administrative building in the town for some time. The first level seemed to be dedicated to office space and public complaints, while the second floor held most of the household amenities. To my left there a spotless kitchen. To my right I noticed a small parlor to receive visitors in. A couple of bedrooms were over on the far side of the hall, and I figured that the narrow door on the end probably _didn't _open into a linen closet.

With an unerring certainty I knew which door the Mayor would probably wind up being behind.

And sure enough, a short man in a crimson and yellow tuxedo walked out of the bathroom. I've got horrible luck for walking into that kind of thing.

The mayor was balding on top, with shoulder-length brown hair curling out around his top hat. He had a bulbous nose, and a drooping moustache, further lending to his overall image of being a clown in a previous career.

I'd have to be very careful not to accidentally call him 'Bozo.'

"Is there something I can help you with, young man?" he asked politely, thankfully not reading my thoughts on his 'bumbling clown' appearance.

"Um... hi. My name's Magnus Smythe..."

This seemed to get his attention. "Joseph Smythe's grandson? Oh _my!_ How long has it _been?"_

I smiled, put at ease, and got into the pleasantries. "About twelve years, give or take. Let's see, I last visited Grandpa when I was seven, so that would be... fifteen years now, actually."

_"Far_ too long! What a shame your grandfather passed away, he was well-respected in this town."

"Yeah, I miss him being around. Grandpa was always one of my best friends when I was a kid, and visiting the farm is still one of my favorite memories from my childhood. Really hurts to see what's become of it since he passed away..."

The mayor's expression went downcast. "No, the old farm isn't what it was, is it? No one even wants to try setting foot out there anymore. It's like walking into a graveyard, feeling how dead that place has become..."

"I noticed. But... I didn't _just_ see death when I walked through the place an hour ago..."

The mayor perked up. "Are you thinking what I _think_ you're thinking?"

"Maybe, but what would you _do_ with all those popsicle sticks?"

"What?"

I burst out laughing. "Sorry, I know that that joke was horrible. But yes, I'm gonna take that old place and make it _live_ again! So, what I basically came here to ask you is, what _exactly_ do I need to do to make it official, Mr. Mayor?"

He chuckled, apparently revived by my enthusiasm for the project. "Just call me Thomas, Mr. Smythe. You'll have to fill out a few forms, of course..."

I nodded. Paperwork makes the world go round, and as much as I _hated_ the stuff, I'd take care of it if that's what needed to happen. "No problems there, I'll take care of that today. Anything else?"

"Just one thing. All land grants have to be approved by the village council. The seasonal town meeting is today, so I'll bring your request up there."

I nodded again, more hesitantly. _Things_ I could deal with, at least eventually, but people had always been a weak point of mine. I just hoped that the local economy was desperate enough for recirculation that the locals would take a chance on a total stranger like me.

"Well, while you're seeing to that, I'll fill out the paperwork and start fixing things up. If things don't turn up for me, I'll at least leave things a _little_ better than I found them..."

Thomas, sensing my anxiety, patted my hand. "Don't worry, I'm sure others will want to see the old farm resurrected. I'll send someone over there when we make a decision. Now," he looked at his pocket watch, "if you'll excuse me, I'm running late to the meeting as is. It was nice meeting you, Magnus, and I'll be glad to welcome you as a member of our community."

With that, we got up and headed outside, Thomas heading off to a large inn on the far side of the square while I set off for the old farm.

--

_**Author's Note (Director's Cut Edition):**_I apologize to those of you who read and enjoyed this pathetic farce when I first wrote it up. For a while, I didn't think I'd be able to finish the story, and felt that I would be wiser to simply remove the story, rather than face the embarrassment of leaving it half-finished on FFnet.

However, since I'm having to read through it again, I'm also going to re-edit it while I work on uploading it again. Therefore, the chapters I've completed thus far (1-9, plus the 'Teaser' scene) will be getting the 'Director's Cut' treatment, and hopefully by then I'll be able to finish the next chapter or two before moving on to my other projects.

In short, I'm back. And hopefully I'll not be abandoning this project again. My apologies for the inconvenience.


	3. The Iron Farmer Challenge

**Canis Lupus**

_**Chapter Two: The Iron Farmer Challenge**_

_--_

_Let's see... Last Name, Smythe. First Name, Magnus. Middle Initial, J..._

I filled out the forms as best as I could, covering all my vital information and signing a few other things; mostly release forms for my tax information, but a few property deeds and legal waivers as well. Just the usual alphabet soup for when you're taking control of a piece of land, really...

_...Current Occupation: Unemployed. Education: High School Diploma. Graduating High School: Port Magellan North. Date of Birth: Spring 15th, 19XX. Place of Birth: Mineral Town Clinic. Next of Kin: Alexander L. Smythe..._

After filling out the blessedly light and simple paperwork I was given, I looked around at the house. _Well... I've got a bed, a toilet, a shower, a tiny kitchenette (and under-equipped even for that), and a TV. All the great luxuries of the modern age!_

_Ah well. I've gotten by with less, anyway._

Used shipping crates served as tables, and I'd have to see about getting a wall calendar to keep track of the date with. A small toolbox nestled against the wall by the door, and I dreaded what kind of shape the tools in that box would be in.

Opening the box, my fears proved well-founded. The tools were old and well-used, but even the solid craftsmanship of the time these things were made in couldn't take a few years of disuse next to a broken window. I found an old mini-sledge hammer, a hatchet, and an old steel watering can, all rusted to the brink of disintegration. A hoe and scythe leaned in the corner, both in the same condition.

Stretching out a little, I took off my fedora and slung my backpack onto the orange crate that was moonlighting as a coffee table, looking over what little I'd brought with me. Aside from a spare change of clothing, I had a portable fishing kit, a couple of days worth of half-stale hiking meals, and an old red notebook.

All-in-all, I was starting out pretty spartan.

Of course, I'd have to get some seeds tomorrow if I wanted to start making money to _improve _my living conditions. I'd also have to clear out and till some acreage if I wanted to plant_._ Then I'd have to watch the soil to make sure the crops didn't dry out, harvest them before they rotted on the stem... And of course, that was only _one_ aspect of the farmwork...

However, since none of that was going to get started today, with my tools in the shape they were in and the local shops all closed for the meeting, I'd have to start somewhere else.

I went over to the bedside table (an old soap crate) and put my notebook on it. That book served as a journal, account file, and even a photo album for me, so I figured that it was pretty important to keep it handy.

Next to the bed, there was an old bookshelf. Closer examination showed that it was used to hold older versions of my notepad. Looking at the entries, it became pretty clear that my grandpa used his journal much the same way I did. That was pretty fortunate, since I'd have to learn to farm from minimal knowledge and no experience. I'm a quick hand with research, but it's easier when someone else's notes are laid out pretty much the same way mine are.

While I was putting away the notebook I'd flipped through, I noticed a small piece of paper fall out of it. Picking it up off the floor, I found that it was an old photograph of Grandpa and myself from my last visit. The buildings in the background were in better shape, and an old dog about the size of a St. Bernard was laying down behind me, but the echoes I could see of that old photo and what I'd seen today were pretty striking.

My vision blurred as my eyes went watery. My grandpa and I had been pretty close when I was a kid, and that visit was the last really holding memory I had of a genuinely happy moment. Later that year, I'd start noticing what the other kids my age saw in me, and the quiet, happy, innocent kid I'd been was pretty much lost for all time.

Still, that's why I was here. I'm still pretty quiet, but now I listen, and wait. My innocence has been replaced with a cynical, world-weary pragmatism.

And any new memories of good times were tinged with a regret that I could never live that moment again, or make the sense of joyous peace last forever. But more importantly, I've learned two very important skills: How to adapt, and how to act decisively.

I walked over to the toolbox and took everything out. In the bottom, right where I knew they'd be, were an old whetstone, a sheet of coarse-grain sandpaper, and some mineral oil. Exactly what I needed to start cleaning these tools up.

Fortunately, these items were in better shape than the tools themselves.

--

I headed out to the front porch and started on my hatchet. There were a lot of stumps around, and I'd probably need this first if I wanted to clear some space out for crops.

_Alright, first use the sandpaper to scrub off the rust, using the oil to help clean off and lubricate the surface. After the rust is clear of the edge, you can use the whetstone to hone it. Sand, oil, hone. Sand, oil, hone._

As I started cleaning up the old tools, I lost myself to the work. Once I'd gotten the axe cleaned up to a reasonable level, I started on the hoe.

_Same approach, different tool. The hoe's blade doesn't have to be as sharp as the axe's, but a little honing will still do it a lot of good. Sand, oil, hone. Sand, oil, hone._

I'd just started on the hammer when I noticed that someone was watching me. I looked up from my work, and saw a small mutt returning my gaze.

--

This dog wasn't in the best of shape. I could see that he hadn't been fed in a long time, and he was probably infested with worms, too. Still, for all of that, he still seemed pretty cheerful. As I looked at the dog, still no more than a puppy, I'll admit that I took some pity on him. After all, what kind of heel would I be if I couldn't?

"Hey there. Guess you're down on _your _luck too, eh small fry?"

To be honest, I wasn't really expecting a response. But then, with a small yip, the dog jumped up and started running around me like a fireball; almost as if he'd understood what I'd said.

I laughed in spite of myself, and instantly took a liking to the little super ball, despite my usual loathing of all things canine. I decided I'd let him adopt me, since I'd probably wind up talking to myself otherwise.

Besides, I _liked _the little guy. I hate dogs pretty thoroughly, but I knew I wouldn't win if I tried to match wits with this particular fuzz-ball. I just can't fight that kind of fire.

_Hmm... fire... not a bad idea there, though I should probably latinize it._ "Pyro," I said, making up my mind, "That's your name boy. Y'like it?"

Pyro barked, and started running around the porch again. I laughed, and decided I'd get him one of my trail rations. Hell, they'd be growing fur by tomorrow anyway, and Pyro looked like he needed a good meal. I dreaded what kind of energy he'd have when he was fed though, if this was what he could do while starving...

"Maybe I should've painted you blue and called you Sonic instead," I quipped. Pyro yawned, the reference clearly reaching far above his doggy mind.

"Yeah, blue wouldn't look that good on you anyway. Although..."

I went into my spare clothes, taking out my other jeans, T-shirt, socks and underwear and throwing them all onto the bed. As I did so, I realized that I'd have to see to laundry as soon as I could arrange it.

For that matter, I'd have to write home and ask my parents to send on the rest of my stuff. They'd be thrilled that I was going to settle down for a while, and likely as much that I'd decided to do something with myself for a change.

Although... they might not be so pleased that I was taking over for grandpa so much... they'd always been a little worried that I'd taken after him a bit too closely.

Admittedly, I'd probably inherited some of my cynical nature from Grandpa Smythe, but that was only a _small _part of my personality...

"HERE it is!" I exclaimed, pulling a red bandanna out of my laundry pile. Multitasking as handkerchiefs, sweatbands, cleaning cloths for glasses, and in my case, a hatband, a good bandanna or two was a traveling essential for a prepared drifter, and pretty damned useful for farmers too. For example, this one would serve as Pyro's collar from now on.

Taking the old bandanna and the last of my travel food (that dog needed feeding up _BAD),_ I set the latter down on the porch. While Pyro ate enthusiastically, I slipped the bandanna around his neck and tied it off with a loose square knot. Smiling to myself for a job well done, I went back over to my hammer and got back to work on it.

--

I'd gotten all of my tools back into a usable shape by the time someone came over to talk about the meeting. Since it was late evening by now, I imagined that either my business was part of a much larger agenda, or that there'd been some hot debate over what would be done about this brash young stranger. Of course, my bets hadn't been on there being much other business to discuss...

Giving in to the inevitable, I looked up at who had decided to give me the bum rush tonight.

_Hmm, Mayor Thomas, of course, Officer Harris, some big guy who looks like he juggles pianos for a hobby, a couple of grumpy-looking old guys, and..._ I got a good look at the bespectacled man hiding in back of the procession.

_Rick,_ I thought. _**That's**__ a relief!_

I doubted they'd bring a skinny young geek like Rick to politely throw me on my ass. Rick, no doubt reading my mind, chose that moment to let out an amused snort.

"Hey, I'm stronger than I look. I could kick you around the carpet just fine if I had to!"

I smirked. "Not for long, four-eyes!" Which was a useless shot since I wore glasses myself, "But I'm going out on a limb and guessing you'll let me stay on?"

Thomas decided to take this opportunity to chime in. "Well, yes. However..."

"There are a few provisions." the grey-streaked old guy interjected.

"Such as...?"

Rick smiled a horrible knowing smile I knew all too well.

"Let me guess, I've got three years."

"How did you know?" Thomas asked, amazed that I'd guessed.

"Rick and I were joking about it earlier. That smile on his face was a clear message that I'd be held to that boast."

"I'd wondered how a screw-up like you got that idea," Grey-streak retorted. Clearly good

manners weren't among his finer points.

"Well, it's fine. I'll accept the challenge. Like I said, it wouldn't be worth it if I can't stretch myself in the attempt. I promise you, I'll have this place up and running properly well within the deadline."

"There is one other detail..." the other old guy, a gruff-looking, red-haired, mustachioed man, added.

"And that would be?"

"You also have to prove yourself to be an upstanding and respectable member of the community," Harris quietly remarked.

"Glad to know some people _fought_ that one, at least..."

"I promise, it wasn't my idea-"

"Harris, it's ok," I said, holding my arms out in a placatory gesture. "I understand the reason behind that clause, and I agree to it." I leaned back against the wall.

"I'll be a good neighbor," I added, "but that _doesn't_ mean I'll be a doormat. You see, I don't really particularly care about public opinion, or about people's feelings towards me. If I feel I need to say or do something, I won't hesitate. Nor will I necessarily think about what I'm doing first. I've been known to act on stupid impulses, and you'd best be aware of that now. If I do something stupid..."

"You'll be thrown out on the spot, without further question." Grey-streak said, with a note of finality I knew all too well.

_Well, no winning __**him **__over,_ I thought, _seems like he's_ _**already **__decided he doesn't like me..._

"Nice to know I'll be held to the usual whipping post, then," I retorted, with more than a little bit of an edge. I'd already gotten _more _than enough flak from idiots like Grey-streak in my life. I wouldn't say I'm particularly bitter about what has been, but I _would _say that I could've dissolved steel with the acid in my tone at that moment.

"Now, now," the mayor said, "you _will_ be given a natural amount of leeway should you act foolishly. However, that can only be taken so far, as I suppose you already know..."

I sighed. I _did_ know, far too well for my liking. "Yes, Mayor Thomas. I'm sorry I snapped like that, discussing the conditions dredged up a few old memories; stuff I'd rather forget about, y'know?"

"It's alright, Magnus. For the time being, at least, you're part of our village. You'll find that it's a small enough community that we treat each other much like family. I hope that you'll _see_ us as a family, in time, and find in that a way to heal the burden you seem to carry within your soul right now."

I hoped so, but I'll admit I doubted it. My _real _family hadn't had anyone I could turn to, and I'd pretty much lost hope in finding anyone who could really ease the deep loneliness I felt...

A quick flash of green caught my mind's eye, and I suppressed it as fast as I could. _She's __**TAKEN**__,_ I reminded myself. _She's off-limits to you, unless of course you __**want **__to repeat what's happened to you before..._

I shook my head, clearing my thoughts, and changed the subject. "What do I do with that paperwork I filled out, Mayor Thomas?"

The big guy stepped forward. "I'll take it," he said, "The name's Zack, and I'm the local buyer/shipper. I'll probably be the one using most of the stuff in that paperwork, so I might as well take it off your hands here."

As I handed over the various forms I'd filled out, I looked over the somewhat intimidating form of Zack.

_Geez, and I'd thought Harris was too tall!_

This guy not only looked to be about 6'6", but he was built to fit the frame as well. He had Schwarzenegger muscles, wore a tight U-shirt, and sported a crop of auburn hair chopped to a flat-top cut.

_Harris _I'd mouth off to, but if _this _guy had dumped me in the fountain today, I'd have politely given my business and wished him well.

Fortunately for me, he didn't really seem to be an aggressive sort of guy. He was certainly big, looked to be tough as nails, and damned if any football team in the US wouldn't kill to hire him on, but I figured that he was probably the easygoing drinking-buddy type. Mostly harmless if you were his friend, and a terror if you started giving those friends grief.

I'd make sure to stay on his good side.

"You missed something on this one," he said, handing me the title deed for the lot.

The blank space read: _Name of Property_. I'd left that part blank on purpose, actually; thinking that if I couldn't look it up in Grandpa's notes, then someone else would probably remember what he called the place.

"I can't just use the name that Grandpa did?"

"Nope! Gotta give a more _personal _touch to this place. Besides, you wouldn't _want_ to use the name old Joe used!"

I grinned along at that remark. My grandpa was a good guy, but he was _far_ less polite than I was about names and attitudes, and I'm _not_ all that polite!

"Gimme a minute, then. I'll have to come up with something..."

Casting out for ideas, I looked around at the wasted fields, the half-collapsed buildings, and the damaged gate that marked the main entrance to my farm. But when my eye locked onto Pyro, inspiration struck hard.

_After all, I'm probably as much a dog as he is..._

"I think..." I began, a little nervously, "...that I'd like to call this place the Canis Farm..."

Zack gave out a hearty guffaw, and slapped me on the back hard enough to push me forward. "I like it! Canis Farm it is!"

Moustache tapped Grey-streak on the shoulder, clearly deciding he wasn't needed here now.

"C'mon Duke, I'll open the bar early tonight to celebrate."

Duke gave a smile, a little grin that gave me some pause to consider whether he was really so bad. That smile... it almost reminded me of some of the friendlier barkeeps I'd met in my travels...

_Maybe he __**isn't **__a total write-off, after all..._ _still, he'll take a __**lot **__of winning over..._

Harris and Mayor Thomas left, presumably to handle something at home. Zack walked off towards the beach, saying that he'd put me on the shipping register tonight and start picking up whatever I could send tomorrow.

"I'll drop by around five in the evenings, so keep it in mind when you're working!" he shouted from the path.

"Right!" I called back, doubting he was really even listening anymore. When I was working out plans, I tended to zone out, and the outer world became only an illusion to me, while the details of my scheming fell into place in my head. I figured Zack was probably the same.

Still, I knew he'd handle the job, and stay true to his word. Guys like him were usually the honorable type, and could be loyal to a fault. It'd be a pleasure doing business with him.

And now everyone else had left. And yet, Rick still hanging around; that smug grin still _clearly _mocking me...

"Gonna hang out here all night, then?"

"Nah, I'm gonna head over to the Inn and take advantage of the Early Happy Hour Special. Doug doesn't open the bar early too often, so I'm gonna get extra-soused while I can. Care to join me?"

I smirked, got my hat from inside, and stepped into line behind him.

"Alright, but if you don't mind... _I'll_ drive us home tonight!"

--

The Perch Inn was a quiet, easygoing pub-like restaurant, heavy on the wood and heavier on the food and drink. Since Rick had invited me, I insisted he cover the tab this time.

"Why me?" he asked, with a too-sappy-to-be-really-hurt look on his face.

"One, because I'm the new guy. Two, because I've only got 1,500G, and I'll end up spending most of it on seeds and groceries tomorrow. And three-"

"Because it means you'll have less money to drink away, Flyweight."

After hearing Karen finish my smart-assed retort, I turned around on my bar stool and got a better look at her; beyond those killer eyes that had held my attention earlier that afternoon.

_Let's see, hiking boots, both stylish __**and **__practical... knee-length khaki shorts; nice legs under them... wine-colored vest over a T-shirt that would be illegal to wear in certain parts of the Bible Belt, __**very **__nice, and..._ my gaze finally got up to her hair. Long, straight, and luxurious, looking like the type of silk that any man would love to stroke for hours. It was mostly brown, I noted, but the front locks...

"Yeah, the blonde highlights are natural," Karen interjected. "Grandma Eve had some odd hair genes. Does the rest meet your approval?"

I chuckled, not ashamed in the least that I'd been caught checking her out. "If I said you had a beautiful body-"

She slapped me, and I started laughing. So, for that matter, did most of the restaurant. I had it coming for the cheap pick-up line, of course; so I held firm and took my medicine like a man.

"We have a naughty one here, I see. Better not try those cheesy lines on me, or I'll do _far_ worse, bub!"

I took a careful look, keeping that warning in mind. _Bib overalls, with a femme bow at the back, yellow blouse with lacy sleeves, a waitresses' apron, and red hair that I sincerely __**doubt **__lies about her temper, or her attitude._

"What would you do if I tried to deny I'd want to, though?" I retorted. I figured I probably knew this game, so I just tried playing along with it.

"Worse yet, stranger."

_Bingo._

"Well, I'll leave it at 'I find you quite attractive,' then."

"You never told me you were a closet pervert, Magnus," Rick needled from the next chair over.

"I'm not," I casually replied.

"No, you're not," Karen added.

_Here's the windup, folks..._

"You're too obvious for that." _And there's the pitch! __**Strike three; he's outta there!**_

I laughed, once again, at my public humiliation.

"That was a hurtful, heartless comment," I said, "and if it weren't true I'd order a drink to drown my sorrows in."

"And since it is?" Red asked, a warm smile on her face.

"I'll order a drink to drown my sorrows in," I finished, giving the obvious punchline. "Coca-cola, with a little cherry syrup in it, if you have any."

"One cherry coke, coming up."

As Red worked along the bar, I decided to peruse the menu a little.

Not wanting to impinge on Rick's offer to cover the tab tonight (mostly because I knew I'd have to cough up if I _did _push it too far), I decided to go for a light order of fish & chips to go with my drink. Having not eaten since breakfast (and having turned the last of my food into dog chow), I was ravenous enough to eat a horse, shoes and all.

Red placed my drink on the counter, and put a couple of glasses of a slightly purplish, transparent liquid down by my companions. Apparently, Rick and Karen drank here regularly enough to warrant glasses with their names on the sides.

"My name's Ann," Red noted, calling me out of my thoughts on barflies, "Are you going to order something off that menu, or were you just looking for some reading material for the bathroom?"

I smiled at Ann. Clearly, she was _indeed _a waitress with attitude. "I'll take an order of Fish & Chips, please. I'm a starving boy, and I'm gonna need my energy if I'm to work on that farm of mine tomorrow..."

Ann grinned back at me, patted me on the head, gave me a couple of sarcastic platitudes, and went to some double doors on the far end of the bar.

"One order of fish & chips!" she called into what I could only assume was the kitchen, before turning to deal with some other customers.

"You're gonna bleed me dry man," Rick told me, his voice already sounding a little slurred. I glanced at his glass, and saw that, unless he was hiding a bottle in one of his pockets, he'd only emptied about half of it.

_**Damn,**_ _that stuff's_ _**lethal!**_ _Good thing I'm not a drinker..._

I snuck a peek at Karen's glass to see if she'd kept pace with Rick. But judging by the crystalline lens of her empty glass, I'd say that Rick was the one who had some catching up to do.

_Figures._ I don't know how, but it just seems like every time I wind up somewhere new, the best friends I find are always heavy drinkers. Considering my own _aversion _to alcohol, it's never been a question I could get a decent answer to...

Ann dropped by and refilled Karen's glass with the amethyst-colored paint thinner. Rick's glass was also emptied by this point, and she refilled that one too.

"Hey, handsome," Karen slurred, draping an arm over my shoulder, "I feel like having a sleepover at your place tonight."

As I just noted, I've had more than a few drunk friends. I've learned how to deal with this without causing unnecessary fuss. Still makes me nervous as hell though, and it doesn't mean I won't try to have a little fun with it.

"Sure Karen," I replied as casually as I could, "but only if we skip the toenail-painting. I do have _some _manly pride..."

Karen laughed at that, in that loud, off-tone way someone inebriated will tend to. "Good one! Any time I've asked Rick, he's just blushed and run off."

Karen chuckled a bit more, then knocked back her second drink as if it were nothing more than water.

"I'll have to paint your fingernails then, to make sure you don't hide your humiliation at my hands."

I smiled, but a bit nervously. She was a little _too _close, I was enjoying the contact a little more than I ought to, and her boyfriend was right next to me, on my other side.

"Easy girl," Ann called, seeing that I needed a rescue, "Let's get you another drink. Here's your order, Magnus."

She laid down a plate piled high with deep-fried fish, thick cut steak fries, and some steamed broccoli on the side for color and minor nutritive value. She also laid down a bottle of malt vinegar, clearly telling the diner what you could add to a dish like this.

By the way, the last time a diner argued with such a point, the jury ruled it to be suicide.

But don't worry, I wasn't arguing. I drizzled the vinegar over the whole dish and dove in with gusto. The food was amazing, and hit just the right spots in my appetite.

"Like it, then?" Ann asked pertly.

"Heaven," I replied between mouthfuls, "Purest heaven. I haven't eaten this well since I left home, and even my foodie sister can't do fish & chips _this_ well!"

Ann smiled. "Glad you like it," she said, pulling a refill for all three of our drinks; in addition to a small soft drink for herself.

Of course, that was the moment Rick decided to call out a toast, in a voice more appropriate to a sports arena than a bar.

"To the _Iron Farmer Challenge!"_

Amazingly, there was a pretty general consent to that around the restaurant. Harris, Gray, Zack, and a few others I hadn't met but apparently wished me well raised their glasses to me; as did Rick, Karen, and Ann.

Well, with an audience like this, what else could I do? I stood up, raised my glass, and answered their toast with an easy flourish.

After that, the _real_ partying began.

--

Hours later, I escorted a stumbling Rick back to his house, threatening to be extra-cheerful tomorrow to make his hangover all the worse to endure.

"Man, you'll be as wasted as I am, with all that caffeine you downed tonight. At least _I'll_ be getting some sleep..."

I smirked. "At least when _I_ wake up, I won't need a whole bottle of Tylenol to kill the mad axeman tearing my head open!"

"Touché. Drinking's a bad habit. Don't start on me."

"Don't worry," I bantered, although a little more seriously, "I don't touch the stuff. _Ever."_

"Good. Not worth it. Now, if you'll excuse me..." And he passed out on the road, then and there.

Fortunately his house was right across the street from mine, and we were almost there anyway. I dragged him onto his front porch, and laid him out as comfortably as I could.

Too bad it was nearing midnight, or I'd just break in and leave him in the kitchen.

_Maybe next time, after I've gotten to know his relatives a little._

He'd mentioned that he had a mom and a sister, but skirted around questions about his dad, so I was guessing that 'The Man of the House' was out of the picture. Seemed like kind of a shame to me... Rick was a nice guy, and I felt that he probably deserved to have had a few years without the responsibilities of an adult life.

"Rick had to grow up too hard and too fast; but I think he's done pretty well in spite of that."

The mysterious speaker staggered over to where I was. With no moon out, and a slight overcast masking the stars, the visibility was poor. But judging from the white T-shirt I _could_ see, I had a good guess as to who it was.

"Shouldn't you be heading home yourself, Karen?"

She shook her head. "Flyweight down there needs to go inside, and I know where the key is. I'm pretty well-marinated, but I'm still coordinated enough to help you get him to the couch. After that, I'll go straight home and to my own bed, promise." She laid a hand over her heart on 'promise.'

I sighed. "Alright, but I'll keep an eye on you until you get there."

She smiled, gently. "That's no problem. I just live over there," She pointed to the supermarket, which was just across the street from the southwestern corner of my farm. "Over the supermarket, with my folks."

"They don't have any objections to your wild nights, do they?"

She frowned a little. "My mom does, but she doesn't say anything about it. And my dad..." she shook her head, "You'll meet him tomorrow probably. C'mon, I've got the door open."

We took opposite ends of our comatose friend and moved him inside. Setting him down on the couch, we then left as quietly as we could.

Karen locked the door behind us, and secreted the key where she'd found it. "I really do love him, you know..."

I nodded dumbly at that, my deepest dread of the moment confirmed. I was falling in love with this girl, in spite of myself, and she already had someone else she liked.

Wishing her a good night, I did indeed watch her carefully as she went home. Cursing myself violently, I then walked into my own house and picked up my notebook.

_Grandpa's farm now mine, 3-year trial. Fixed up tools, talk to blacksmith for further work. _

_Magnus Smythe is a total dumbass with girls._

_Found Pyro, small dog, breed indeterminate (mutt). Tomorrow: pick up seeds, get food, clear fields for planting._

_Current mid-term goals:_

I stopped to think about that part carefully.

_Hmm... yeah, __**that'd **__work..._

_Current mid-term goals: Repair chicken coop, obtain chickens. Eggs will provide a stable light income._

That done, I put down my notebook and fell back on the mattress. My last thoughts before I went to bed were of tonight's toast in my honor.

_The Iron Farmer Challenge, huh? Alright then; I'm game. Bring it!_

_**ALLEZ AGRICULTURE!**_

--

_**Author's Note:**_ I'll keep these brief and rare. Since I don't own a copy of _Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town,_ I'm basically shooting off the hip (for the most part) about relationships, town layout, and festivals. If anything is contrary to what you think it should be, keep that in mind. That said, I hope you look forward to the next installment, coming soon to an internet near you!


	4. How To Play

**A Lone Wolf Under a Harvest Moon**

_**Chapter Three: How to Play (Getting Started)**_

--

**1st Year, Spring 2**

_BEEPEEPEEPEEPEEPEEPEEP- __**SLAM!**_

My eyes refused to focus as I tried to read the time on the alarm clock. Putting my glasses on and trying again, I managed to get a vague impression that it was a little after five in the morning.

_Gooood __**morning,**__ Magnus! Time for a __**beautiful **__day to begin! And you'll __**start **__by cleaning up. Not that you're dirty, but I saw a __**hobo **__lurch away from you yesterday! And I'm pretty sure he'd been cursing about a horrifying __**stench **__at the time..._

...Were those really my thoughts? They seem _far _too cheerful to be coming from me after a mere four hours of sleep...

It's not that I've never been awake at five in the morning, mind you. I _love _to watch the sun rise. The _real _issue is that I tend to watch the sun rise after being awakefor five or six hours beforehand. I'm _not_ a natural morning person. And while a part of my mind did _indeed _try the cheerful "Up and At 'Em" approach, the part of me that slept told me to shut up and get my ass back into the bed. I fight with myself a lot like that, and the grumpy side usually wins.

Fortunately, my intelligent side had a carrot this morning.

_Get up and out there __**fast **__enough, and you'll get to nag Rick on his morning-after_.

Fortunately for my _schedule,_ I can't resist being a smartass. I got up and lurched towards my microscopic bathroom, a nasty smirk almost making up for bleary eyes and a slight stagger.

--

I hesitate to call the closet that my toilet and shower are in a bathroom. It pretty much feels like a toilet and shower were shoehorned into an old tool shed some eighty years ago, and no one really tried to improve on that since. Well, at least the shower was reasonably new-ish in design...

The toilet seemed like it was fairly new too, but it also looked like the cheap kind that didn't really flush well. _Add a plunger to my shopping list,_ some part of me that was kinda-sorta processing noted.

I turned on the water and hoped for the best. With all that had happened yesterday, I hadn't had time to check the utilities, so there was a chance that there wasn't any hot water. Determined as I was to get up, I don't like ice-cold showers. One should _not_ have to risk hypothermia in the comforts of their own home, in my opinion.

Running my hand under the stream, I had to pull it back almost immediately. I smiled, and got my shower stuff out.

_Frostbite from a faucet is horrible stuff. A magma flow, on the other hand..._

Needless to say, I had a _very _refreshing shower.

--

30 minutes later, feeling cleaner and far more alive, I walked over to the basin that served as the only sink in the house.

It was just an old plastic laundry tub, really, the type you'd see next to a washing machine in a house with 'vintage' plumbing. Beat up, crude, mostly unsuitable junk that it was, it still served as the kitchen sink. _And _the bathroom sink. And yes, I guess I could _even_ do laundry in it, if I really _wanted_ to... however, since the idea of hand washing my clothing held no appeal to me, I was hoping I could find a good coin-op washing machine in the grocery store.

Failing that, I was hoping that I could at _least_ beg the use of someone else's household utilities...

Well, I'd figure some of that out today, I was sure. For now, I'd just focus on making myself halfway presentable. As I shaved in front of the cracked mirror above the sink, I decided I'd see what was on the TV before I went out.

_Probably nothing worth watching, but a good weather report would be nice..._

The local farmer's report was on, and today they were talking about how to plant crops to the best effect. Since Grandpa's notes hadn't covered that, I paid close attention while I saw to my teeth.

Still needing the local weather, I switched to the news and watched that while I got my cleaner set of clothes on.

"The skies will be blue tomorrow, with not a cloud in the sky," the weather girl reported.

_Hmm... She's kinda cute, though that business suit really __**doesn't **__suit her. She'd look __**far **__better in more everyday wear. Say, white cargo shorts, a denim vest, and a yellow T-shirt._

The local and national news held nothing I was interested in. Deciding to check what else was on, I flipped through the other channels as quickly as I could. Channels 4, 8 and 12 looked like the big syndicated channels, and 20 was the local PBS station (and where I'd seen the farmer's report). Channel 16 looked like a public access channel, basically a pan-county bulletin board with some quiet background music.

Beyond that, I doubted I'd get any signal. There wouldn't be any cable lines in a place this rural, and I hadn't seen a satellite dish anywhere in town.

_**Definitely **__no MTV out here_. _It doesn't even look like they've got UHF stations in the area. Just the local stuff, and you'd have to use the term pretty loosely..._

Switching off the tube, I started getting my boots on. I didn't really care that about television, although I _would _miss a few of the better cable channels... meh. I'd have too much work on my hands to worry about tube surfing for most of the year, and even during the winter I could probably find better ways to entertain myself. Grandpa's bookshelf was packed, and I remembered there being a pretty good library in town when I was a kid.

_Too bad I don't have the time for sightseeing yet._ _Need to clear out the fields as soon as I can._

I finished tying my boots and walked over to an old mirror to examine myself.

_Let's see... red T-shirt, well-worn blue jeans, and black steel-toe work boots. Avant-garde fashion this ain't. Still, it's all good stuff to get dirty in. I can call home for the nicer stuff later._

_Now, to top off the ensemble..._

I picked up my hat, a straw fedora with a red bandanna glued over the original, ugly hatband.

_And now you look like a cheap tourist._ _But it'll keep the sun off. And it's a __**lot **__better than Grandpa's old hat!_

I looked over at the ratty old baseball cap that still held a place of honor on the hatrack by the door. Well worn as it was, you could still tell that it'd been sky-blue with an orange brim when it was new. The guy who designed it must've been colorblind. Even if I'd been into ball caps, I wouldn't have wanted to be caught dead wearing that thing.

Why grandpa was so fond of it, I'll never know.

I picked up my backpack from the hook beside the old cap, and walked out to start my day. As I left, my eye caught the time on the wall clock.

_Excellent. 6 AM on the dot, __**just **__the time I'd wanted to get started today!_

"Let's-a GO!"

Chuckling at my pathetic sense of humor, I officially started my first day as a farmboy.

--

Since I _had_ to see if Rick was ok (and alright, since I'd hoped I could mooch a breakfast in the process of gloating), I headed across the street to his place.

Besides, I needed seeds and groceries before I got too far into clearing land, and the Supermarket didn't open until 8. Since I'd have to wait a few hours anyway, I'd decided to get in good with the neighbors while I was sitting around. I _desperately _wanted to sleep a few more hours, but I wanted to gloat _just_ a little bit _more..._

Besides, 6 AM was a good farmer's schedule to keep to, and I'd have to get used to it when I had animals to watch after. Better sooner than later.

Animals. That reminded me, I'd have to see to Pyro's veterinary needs today, too. And come to think of it, he could probably benefit from a neighbor's generosity as well...

"Pyro!" I called, projecting my voice to carry across the farm.

_Heh. Those drama lessons are finally paying off._

Pyro shot out from the field, looking just about as bedraggled as he had the night before.

"Let's go get some breakfast, boy," I told him, scooping him up while I was at it.

_Hmm... __**much **__too light... gonna have to work on that..._

Dashing across the road to Rick's house, I knocked on the door.

When a young pink-haired girl opened it, I started to wonder if I'd gotten the wrong address.

"Hi there!" Pink exclaimed, a little _too_ chipper to be real, "and where do you come from?"

I stepped back, gulping audibly. I can meet people on the street with little trouble, but going out of my way to say hi makes me nervous. Nonetheless, I felt that I really shouldn't run off.

Last time I did that, I got taken home in a cop car.

_Damn it, Magnus, it's too __**late **__to back out! __**GO!**_

"Um, hi..." I held Pyro up a little closer, shielding myself against the Pink Menace. "Is Rick up yet? I wanted to know how he was doing, since he was pretty out of it last night..."

"Ok, I'll get him! He was just waking up anyway! _Ri-ick! Someone outside to see you!"_

The response I heard from Rick encouraged me.

_**Definitely **__the right house._

"Now is that any way to speak to the man who dragged you all the way home last night? I'm crushed, Rick."

"We were right _outside,_ maybe _ten feet_ from my door. _And _I'm pretty sure you hit my head on something..."

"No," I replied, laughing maniacally by this point, "that'd be the hangover. The nail in your backside is _my_ fault."

"RICK, GET UP AND SEE TO YOUR GUEST _RIGHT __**NOW!**_ I _**STILL**_HAVE TO HELP MOM WITH BREAKFAST, YOU KNOW!"

Pink looked like an angry kitten about to strike, puffed up and threatening, but still tooth-achingly cute.

_Sheesh, glad she's not_ my _sister,_ I thought, taking a wild guess toward what their relationship

was. They didn't resemble each other much, but the only time I'd seen a fight like that, I was in it, usually with one of my brothers.

_And at least I __**could **__fight them when they got on my nerves..._

Rick came to the door, looking like hell warmed over.

"What are you doing here, Magnus?" he snapped.

"Checking up on you after you passed out drunk last night," I calmly replied. "Wouldn't you do the same in my place?"

"Right," Rick snapped again, clearly not convinced of my purely altruistic intentions, "and I guess you want breakfast for being such a **ing Good Samaritan?"

"Well, since you brought it up..."

"No way man, you got dinner off me last night. Find someone _else_ to play 'The Pitiful Beggar' on."

I decided it was time to play dirty. This was too good to pass up, and I smelled eggs.

_Let's see, his mom should be free to investigate right about..._

"Who's your new friend, Rick?" a pale, middle-aged woman asked.

_Bingo. Can't be_ _**that **__many pink-haired women around..._

"Good morning, Mrs. Hunter," I greeted, turning on my best charm, "I'm your new neighbor across the street. Rick had invited me to breakfast last night at the Inn, but it seems he's forgotten. Since I _couldn't_ impose..."

"Oh, please, come in and sit down," Mrs. Hunter replied, "It's no trouble at all, really. You'll have to excuse Rick, he's always a little cranky when he's hung over. I'll see your guest to the table, Rick. You should go upstairs and get some Tylenol."

"Yes, Mother," Rick grumbled. He gave me the dirty look of the century, turned on his heel, and headed upstairs.

Rick's mother sighed. "He's such a good boy, I hope you don't take his attitude _too_ personally. He's only this bad right now because-"

"He's got a hangover from last night," I finished. "I know. Don't worry, I like him well enough not to give him _too _hard a time about it. Especially since-"

"He didn't _really_ invite you to breakfast," Mrs. Hunter interrupted, a knowing smile on her face. Clearly, she was not a woman to be fooled by a rogue like myself.

"How would you like your coffee? You came back pretty late, and you don't look like you slept too well after you brought my son in."

I smiled. No, there'd be no fooling this lady. And probably no escaping her, either.

"No coffee, thanks, but if you've got some Coca-cola, I'll take my caffeine that way, ma'am."

She giggled. "Lillia, please. And I think I might even have some stashed somewhere. Popuri, could you get some Coke out for our guest, please?"

"Sure thing, mom!" Pink responded from the kitchen. The matter taken out of my hands, I set

Pyro down and headed for the enticing aroma that was calling to my drifter's instincts.

_Food,_ the Instincts cried. _Go. Eat it_ _**all **__up. Live here, food is plentiful._

Since that thought was going a bit far, I felt free to ignore it.

_Shut up, we'll eat well on our own soon enough._

_No,_ They replied, _**not**__ soon enough. FOOD, __**NOW!**_

It can be so irritating when an aspect of yourself is such a total pig, especially when you're in near-total agreement with It.

I shut It down and locked It up before It got us summarily thrown out, and headed for the kitchen.

--

Lillia's kitchen was a nice country affair, with painted cupboards, a deep, wide enamel sink, and an old gas range that looked like it dated back to the Civil War. A small breakfast table sat in the middle of the room, set for three, but with an extra chair at what would've been the fourth place.

_Dad's chair,_ I thought. _And I wonder what kind of man he'd been? Probably not the type I'd like to know, from what I've gathered so far..._

Popuri was getting some extra flatware out, while Pyro went over to the range to investigate the odors assaulting him. Since that might've caused an issue, I called him back. Pyro, seeming unusually obedient for a recent stray, came over immediately.

_And you're __**another **__mystery. Whoever threw _you_ out deserves the worst I can imagine, boy._

"What would you like for breakfast, Mr..." Pink asked. A name like Popuri suited her, but I liked Pink better.

"Smythe. Magnus Smythe. And I'd like some scrambled eggs and toast, if that's alright."

"Sure thing, Mr. Smythe!"

_**...Scary...**_

I'm a little nervous of _anything_ that energetic by nature. Still, I'm sure I had _one _defense about to show up...

"Morning, sis."

_Jackpot._

Rick walked into the door right then, with the typical swagger of _any_ annoying older brother. My timing was particularly _good_ today...

_Heh. New target acquired, preparing main battery..._

"GOOD _MORNING,_ BROTHER DEAR!" Pink shouted into Rick's (apparently) still-ringing ears.

_OUCH! __**Critical Strike! **__All hands to emergency stations! Mayday, Mayday! The Big Brother Rick is going __**DOWN!**_

Lillia simply chuckled at her children's antics.

Some parents will do anything in their power to stop siblings from fighting. Most of the good ones though (at least, the good ones _I've _met) will take bets on the winner.

I could tell that Lillia was among the better types.

"200G against Rick. That hangover's gonna work to his disadvantage."

"Sorry, Magnus, book's closed on this fight. The odds are stacked too high in Popuri's favor."

Watching the casual bickering, I had to agree. Pink had a clear advantage against her brother.

It was probably time to either intervene, or decide to eat out today.

"Do I smell something burning?" I politely inquired.

_"Ah!_ The eggs!" Pink dashed for the stove.

Rick, looking relieved, took his place at the table.

"You owe me breakfast, man."

Rick glared at me. Then he threw back his head and laughed.

Then he winced, having hit a note his hangover disliked.

I let out a light chuckle myself, making sure to keep the decibel count low.

"In fact, I think I'll be making breakfast here a bit of a habit..."

_This is a good place,_ I thought. _I probably wouldn't want to move __**in, **__but they'll be good morning company when I need it..._

Lillia held her hand out to me, that gentle, knowing smile still on her face.

"Deal," she said, clearly intending to hold me to it.

I sealed the deal with a handshake.

"Awesome. Now then, let me see what I can do to help out."

--

After breakfast, I headed over to the big ranch across the river from my place. A wooden arch over the far end of the bridge marked the place as the 'Yodel Ranch,' with hours that were just starting up. Setting Pyro down, I tried the door on the barn.

_This early, whoever runs the place is probably working on the animals,_ I thought as I entered the large outbuilding.

Row upon row of cows and sheep stared at me with vacant expressions.

Now, from my perspective, the collective herd consciousness was clearly thinking two things.

First off was: _Who's the strange human? He's not the feeder/caregiver._

Since their second thought would've involved escaping through my sorry corpse, I hastily closed the barn door; fortunately before that thought had time to fully process through the herd.

_Scary,_ I thought, my back against the door (on the outside of the barn, I wasn't _entirely_ daft)...

_Clearly, I've got a __**lot **__to learn before I can handle_ _**those **__guys..._

"You're not supposed to open the barn door, you know," a little girl told me.

"I think I figured that out, thanks," I replied. _The hard way, as usual. One of these days I'll pick up the Instruction Manual and learn_ _How To Play_ _**first.**_

By the way, my misspent youth as a gamer had irreversibly warped my personality and sense of humor. Just in case it wasn't obvious, y'know?

Looking over at the black-haired girl, I decided to play the confused grown-up.

When dealing with kids, it's best to stick to the truth anyway.

"Hi, I'm the new farmer over that-a-way," I pointed towards my farm, "and I was wondering if you could help me make my new dog better. He's sick, you see, so he needs some medicine."

A person-sized door opened beside the main barn door, and an old man walked out chuckling.

"That scrawny one over by the gate, Mr. Smythe? Not a problem. Good choice, he looks like one of your old grandpa's stock. Smart ones, those dogs."

I sized up the old man.

_About 5'4" hunched over, bald head, pointed beard over just the chin, full-moon specs, and clothing __**definitely **__belonging to the retirement set. Better not take that at face value, though; he __**clearly **__knew Grandpa Smythe._ _And __**probably **__for a long time, since he guessed my surname..._

I smiled, and extended my hand. "Yeah, that's the one. I call him Pyro. Do I really look _that_ much like my Grandpa?"

He took my proffered hand and shook it. "A little. But it was how you treated my granddaughter that gave it away more." He chuckled. "Old Joe _always _enjoyed that old game. Sorry to have to cut you off in the middle of it."

I laughed it off. "Nah, 'twas a good deed, fair enough. Besides, Pyro _does_ need treatment. I'll watch your granddaughter while you see to it."

"Don't worry about that," the old man said, "May _likes _to watch me treat the animals. Come inside and make yourself comfortable, I'll have him fixed up in a jiffy!"

Since there was nothing I could do to fight it, I took May's hand and went inside the ranch's office.

--

"Canis Farm, you said?" Barley asked.

"Yeah, sounds a bit silly now that I've thought about it."

"Nah, I've heard worse. You've got a good mind for naming things. Like _this_ young 'un, for example..."

I was sitting on a couch in a modest parlor that had been refitted for use as an office. Bags of animal feed were stacked on a couple of pallets in the corner, with a few boxes of something called 'Magic Tak's Animal Miracles' neatly arranged next to it. A livestock manifest was left on a desk in another corner, with a table for the treatment of small animals sitting along the wall between them.

Pyro was currently standing on that table, more curious than nervous.

"Looks like one of Taro's kids to me... she was quite a beauty, broke my heart when I found her body a couple of weeks ago... _this _pup's probably the last one she ever had..."

"He's half-starved, and I'm pretty sure he's got some parasites in his system," I replied. "It _is_ nice to know that he's a connection to Grandpa Smythe, though. Fitting, in a way..."

"Plus," I added, "it means I don't have to hunt some jerk down for abandoning a dog like this!"

Barley chuckled at my half-joke. "Yeah, he's lean, and he's got worms all right, but he's a good _local_ boy. There are _far_ too many feral dogs out there, abandoned by people who only see pets as fashionable _accessories,_ to be thrown out when they become tiresome. I'm glad you're of a mind to pick up a stray or two."

"Well, not _too_ many," I replied, "I've only got so much space... and to be honest, I'm usually not much of a dog person..."

I got up, strode over, and rubbed Pyro's head.

"This rascal is a rare exception. And even then, he's sleeping _outside_ in good weather."

Barley chuckled as he got some medicine out of the mini-fridge next to the table.

"Yeah, probably the best place for a dog like that. Nice to know you're not _entirely_ pitiless, though..."

"Grandpa, do you think my horsie can stay at his farm?" May asked. The question caught me off-guard, but Barley almost looked like he'd been expecting it.

_Wonderful,_ I thought, _and now __**I'm **__stuck in the middle of this..._

"Well, May, I don't know..." Barley started.

"You _said_ we don't have any room for him. And _Magnus_ says he's going to keep animals without a home, right?"

Looking into Barley's face, I could see this was an argument that he'd been dealing with for some time; and one with _very_ little chance of a happy ending. Softie that I am, I decided I'd do what I could.

_Chances are high you'll regret this, you know,_ a cynical part of my mind noted.

_Chances are 100 per cent that I'll regret it if I just stand by and do __**nothing,**_ my altruistic side replied.

Fortunately, altruism usually wins over cynicism in my moral battles.

"If you need a home for an extra horse, I think I _do_ have an empty stable I could lend out..."

"All well and good Magnus," Barley said, "but I'm not sure you're _ready_ to take on livestock yet. You'd need to keep him fed..."

"I'll take care of that," May interrupted, "he's _my_ horsie, remember?"

"That'd be fair," I added. "It'd be a good exercise for her. _And_ I'd take care of grooming until you could teach her how to do it properly."

"Your heart's in the right place, Magnus, and I'm _glad_ that you're willing to try." Barley's face was shadowed. It was clear that as much as he wanted to, he still had his doubts about my animal handling abilities. "But..."

"No," I cut him off. I knew where this was going. "I _don't_ know anything about keeping livestock. But I _am _a quick study, and I'll work _hard_ to figure it out as fast as I possibly can."

"Well, we'll see..." Barley looked pensive while he finished his treatment on Pyro. "I'll let you _look_ at the colt, at least. If I like how you handle him, I'll give you a fifteen-day trial. _May_ will feed him (a little girl in the corner cheered at that), and _you'll_ see to his grooming and housing. If I like what I see when I check on him, I'll let you keep the horse, _without_ further concern. If _not..."_

"I understand," I replied, "And I'll do my best. Now, let's see what _fine_ mess I've gotten myself into this time, Barley."

I wiggled my nonexistent tie. Barley laughed while May looked a little puzzled.

_I'll have to see if I can find some old Laurel and Hardy stuff to educate her with,_ I thought.

_Meanwhile, it looks like I've gotten me a gift horse._

We headed outside to look it in the mouth.


	5. Horse Sense

**Canis Lupus**

_**Chapter Four: Horse Sense (or Lack Thereof)**_

--

Looking at the horse I'd just adopted, I was wondering what the _hell _I'd gotten myself into...

"Are you sure he's just a colt?" I asked Barley, with reasonable concern. Standing a full sixteen hands at the shoulder (or 5'4", in Imperial measures), he looked like an adult horse to _my _mind...

_And if he's this big __**now,**_ _he's probably going to be an __**elephant **__when he gets his full growth..._

Barley chuckled at my clear nervousness.

"Yeah, even for my usual draft stock, he's gigantic. Likely going to be 20-25 hands when he gets his full growth. Good size for a work horse, and there's plenty of demand for them out here. They're cheaper to maintain than a tractor, you see, and the small-farmer economy out here can't really _afford_ big machinery, between rising fuel costs and falling crop prices..."

"So you go for the older alternatives," I concluded. "Horses, wind, and water power. Can't always get the same amount of work done, but as you said, cheaper to acquire, and to maintain."

"And," I added, "they're cleaner-running too. I like the idea."

"Exactly!" Barley gave me a hearty thump, clearly glad that I got the point. I stumbled forward from the force.

_**Man,**__ that old guy's a lot tougher than he looks! Must be all the hard work. I'm gonna have to catch up as fast as I can, or I'll get flattened in a month!_

Barley was telling me how glad he was that I'd approved of the way things were done around here, oblivious to my inner monologue.

Borrowing the brush set by the door, I started gently grooming the gigantic horse I was about to adopt.

_Not a Clydesdale,_ I thought, _the feet are too narrow for __**that **__famous breed. Actually, he kinda reminds me of a destrier, an old heavy cavalry horse..._

I didn't know much about horses, but I did know a fair bit about medieval history. I'd been that kind of kid in elementary school, the adventure-smitten type that lived for heroic tales.

_I bet you'd have been something to see back then,_ I thought to my horse, _Terror manifest on the battlefield, the lightning behind the charge's thunder._

_**Hey,**__ that's an idea..._

"Blitz," I said. "I think I want to call him Blitz." Having finished grooming him to the best of my ability, I stepped back and let Barley inspect how badly I'd done it.

When he was finished, he looked, oddly enough, impressed. "I thought you said you knew _nothing_ about livestock," he said, a touch of reproach in his voice.

"I don't," I admitted, "I only took one riding lesson in my life, and while that _did _cover grooming, it was long enough ago that I couldn't really count it. I just followed the grain on his coat, and hoped for the best."

"Think you remember how to ride, then?" Barley asked.

"With the right tack, I could probably figure it out again. Breaking a horse in would be another matter though. I'm nowhere _near_ good enough to handle an animal that hasn't gotten used to people riding them."

Barley looked approving. "I'll break him in when he's ready, but that'll be another season, at least. Good to know you're smart about your limits. I still have some concerns about your feeding him..." he paused, "But I'll give you the brush you used and a month's supply of feed for free. After that, you'll have to start supplying feed on your own, either by buying it here, or growing it on your farm."

Barley turned to May, who'd been jumping up and down to get attention by this point. "And yes, May, _you'll_ deliver Blitz's food _every morning._ You'll have to get up to do so on your own, though..."

May looked ecstatic at her new job. "I will, Grandpa! I'll feed _all_ the horses from now on!"

Barley laughed. Considering her enthusiasm, I did too.

_A 7-year-old taking on such a job __**voluntarily!?**_

Having gotten the grand tour on the way in, I knew that the stables at the Yodel Ranch comfortably housed two dozen horses, and that all the stalls were currently fully occupied.

_Even if it was just __**my **__little one-horse stable, I'd __**never **__have found the energy to wake up early_ _**every day **__to tend to it when I was __**her **__age!_

_Then again, when I was her age I didn't know what getting up so early every morning was_ _**like...**_

_...Then again, she might enjoy the experience... She __**clearly **__loves the animals, so maybe she's got what it takes..._

"Sounds like a deal to me," I declared, and held my hand out. May took it without hesitation, and we shook on it.

_It'll be her trial too, I suppose. Her grandpa's not as young as he used to be, and while he seems to be keeping up now, he'll need help soon enough. It'd be __**nice **__if May were up to the challenge..._

"Thanks Barley. What do I owe you for Pyro's care?"

"Not a thing. For relieving an old man of some heavy burdens, I'll waive all costs today."

Barley _did_ look more energetic, at that, as if several years of aches had been pulled from his wiry frame by my visit...

"Just today, mind. I still need to make some money here, you know, and you look like you'll turn out to be a strong regular."

"I will at that," I promised, "and be sure to drop by if you need an extra hand. I'm always willing to pitch in for a neighbor."

Barley smiled. "I'm glad to hear it, Magnus. But try not to push yourself too hard. You're young, but you're _not _invincible. And getting your farm running is going to take a good while. Working yourself to death won't help you escape your pain. Believe me, I know."

Hearing his cryptic remark for what it was, I started looking at Barley a bit more closely. Under the hunched, wiry frame, the inch-thick spectacles, and the easy smile... I could see that he was keeping a lot more to himself.

_He __**does **__know... one day I'll have to ask him about that, and see if I can't help __**him **__find some peace..._

"Thanks Barley, I'll try not to keep that in mind. And since I'm sure you have a lot of work to get back to, I'll take Blitz home myself. I've got business in town after this anyway."

"And so you do," Barley said, "since I'd like you to walk May to school when you're done. She and a young boy her age are taught by our local priest. Since I actually _do _have some work to do, and I'd like to make sure she gets there alright..."

"Anytime, Barley."

And I meant that. I liked these two, and I would do as much as I could to help them out.

_Sometimes,_ _I just wish that I could do more..._

--

After settling Blitz in my stable, I headed over to the church with May in tow. Looking up at the steeple in front, I was half-surprised to see a clock tower in place of the usual bell tower.

_Nice touch,_ _and __**definitely **__more useful to the town..._

Other than that, it was a pretty standard-looking church, a wooden rectangle about 3 times as long as it was wide, with a steeply pitched roof and the aforementioned tower crowning the front door. The windows were stained glass in lily patterns on the sides, and the whole building was painted white on the outside, with mid-green trim around the windows and roof.

Although I was wondering what it looked like on the inside, I didn't really have the time to find out today.

_Got to get my fields cleared as soon as I can. That work'll just drag me down if I don't keep at it. And I need to start by getting a crop going today. Groceries, __**now.**_

I turned to my left and resolutely marched the ten feet or so to the J & S Supermarket. Which was locked up tight when I tried the door.

_Hmm..._ I thought, pulling my watch out of my pocket, _10 AM. They should be open by now, shouldn't they?_

To be sure, I checked the hours posted on the door.

_**Open 8 AM-6 PM, Closed Tuesdays and Sundays.**__ Tuesdays and... __**DAMN IT!**_

I banged my head against the wall, hard. Having spent several years as a lone drifter, I sometimes had trouble keeping track of the day of the week.

_And if May is going to school, I'm guessing it's a weekday. Tuesday, to be precise. I_ _**knew **__my timing was too good today!_

I banged my head against the wall another couple of times for good measure.

"That'll lead to brain damage, you know."

I looked up at the window above the sign, and said something that ought to tell you a great deal about my natural instincts.

"About don't know I what you're talking!"

Karen laughed, and tossed one of her boots at me. Since she was right, and I'd incurred quite enough cranial trauma for one day, I dodged it, caught it by the laces before it hit the ground, and waited for her to come down to retrieve it.

Opening the door (and _still_ laughing at me), she invited me inside. "Sorry, maybe I should've warned you that we'd be closed today."

"What, and miss the look on my face?" I replied as I handed her boot back. In gratitude, she swung it at my head again.

To be fair, I _did_ deserve it...

--

The shop itself was just a couple of aisles of sundry goods and a fridge case along the back, more a convenience store than a _real_ supermarket, in my opinion. However, since it was the _only _grocery store between here and Flower Bud Village, I figured that it probably did a pretty brisk trade... for a place this size, at least...

A small display in the middle held, I assumed, the seeds one could plant this season.

"Not much, I know."

Karen sighed, a downcast look on her face. "We've got customers from Flower Bud Village, Forget-Me-Not Valley, _and_ right here in Mineral Town, but this is all we can manage to keep in stock."

Then, Karen's expression shifted to one of irritation. "If my dad were _half_ the salesman he could be..."

"Got a coin-op in here?" I asked, in a not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject.

"What?"

"A coin-operated washing machine," I clarified, "My laundry is funky enough to start a disco, and there was only an old laundry tub in the house. Since Grandpa was about as lazy as I am, I'm assuming he got his clothes washed elsewhere."

Karen considered this, and apparently came to a decision. "The only public laundry is under the inn. How much do you have to wear?"

"Just what's on my back and one full change. Socks and underwear I double up on, but that's it."

"So..." And now a dirty look crossed her face. "I guess you'd have to strip down _all _your laundry done, wouldn't you?"

_Well, __**well,**__ looks like it's pervert payback time today! Joy._

I felt a little pressed for time, and didn't really want to be stuck in a laundry room while I waited on my clothes to be clean. Especially with Karen (and likely Ann, if she got wind of it) leering in from the doorway. In that light, I thought up a good excuse as fast as I could.

"Since I'm gonna have to dirty up this set more anyway, I think I'll just wash my spares this time."

"Oh."

Karen looked disappointed, and I didn't blame her. After all, I'd feel the same way in her place...

_Wait, hold on to that thought... oh yeah, that'd be a __**great**__ moment, all right... Karen stripping down to get __**everything**__ clean..._

Unfortunately, Karen slapped me before I could take that fantasy further.

"Undress me with your mind again, little _doggy,_ and I'll take you to be _**fixed."**_

"I didn't get _that_ far..." I replied, a tone of abject hurt in my voice.

Of course, rubbing my smarting cheek as I was, I'll admit I was still smirking. I was only _really_ sorry that I'd been caught.

Of course, if Karen hadn't been smiling too, I'd be running by this point. I'd known a few girls who'd use that threat _seriously._

"Do you have your laundry with you, then?"

I pulled it all out of my backpack. The jeans were stained with mud from yesterday's hike, as well as some rust and grease from the tool maintenance I'd been doing yesterday evening. My shirt was in similarly bad shape, three days late for a washing and looking closer to eight.

The rest of my clothes, well... I won't go into detail about what shape the rest of my clothes were in. Needless to say, I was a _little _overdue to get some laundry done.

Leading me into a back room, Karen pointed me to the washer/dryer half-hidden in the corner. Box upon box of assorted stuff was piled nearby; although I _did _note a yellow hazard line to indicate how far to keep flammables from the dryer...

Next to the washer was a small basket, with laundry detergent, dryer sheets, an old iron, and spray-on starch neatly packed inside. A well-used ironing board was leaned against the wall behind the basket.

_Someone in this house takes their laundry __**seriously,**_ I thought.

After loading my stuff into the washer, I looked a little more closely at the boxes scattered around.

_Hmm... well-organized, if not a __**little **__overstocked... Mostly dry goods here, the perishables should be... ah! There we go, that door would open into the freezer section and the dairy case. So we have canned foods in here, toiletries, kitchen essentials like aluminum foil and mousetraps, and..._ my eye caught on two things by the door. The first was a phone, which I intended to use to call home and get the rest of my stuff.

The second was a backpack. Mine was alright, don't get me wrong. Two spacious main pockets, with all the sub-pockets I could ever need. But I'll admit it was falling apart on me, and _this_ backpack was a true masterpiece!

_Four main pockets, all of which can be both easily accessed and loaded/unloaded, comfortable-looking shoulder straps, reinforced bottom, looks like a Kevlar plate stitched into some __**very**__ nice suede leather, and hey, I even like the color!_

_Don't you go __**anywhere**__ baby, because I'm taking you home with me!_

And then I noticed the price tag.

_"OUCH!"_

Karen popped her head in from the main room. "What happened?"

"I found the price tag on _this_ beauty. 8000G for a _backpack?!_ Man, it's _beautiful,_ but it'd be **months** before I could afford something like this!"

Karen chuckled. "Yeah, dad bought it from a passing salesman. The guy promised that it'd be snapped up in a week, and that it was _well_ worth the investment, but we can't seem to unload it on _anyone."_

I smiled. "Don't get _too_ ruffled," I said, "this _is_ a seriously awesome backpack. I've never seen anything like it, and not for lack of trying, either. The only _real_ problem with it-"

"-Is the price," she finished, "and I'd let it go for _cost_ if someone really needed it."

"That sounds like it'd be a fair deal. How much would _that_ be, then?"

Karen smiled. "5000G, and we _don't_ take credit. Or at least," her smile vanished, replaced by a troubled expression, "we _shouldn't_ be taking credit... _Everyone_ takes advantage of my dad, just because they know they can. And because of it, we're always having trouble making ends meet. I wish they'd realize that we can't pay the bills on _promises..."_

I sighed, a distant look crossing my own features now. "You know," I said, "I really hate

people sometimes. Casual stupidity like this _always_ gets on my nerves."

Karen looked at me closely, and from what she said next, I'm guessing that she'd seen the truth to that line.

"Don't worry about it," she told me, "we get by, and I _usually_ manage to collect enough from the _serious _deadbeats to cover the bills."

"The issue shouldn't even _come up,"_ I replied, somewhat bitterly.

Karen put a finger to my mouth to stifle further argument on my part. "Don't get all worked up over this." she said. "It's _my_ job to be angry about the store's financial issues, ok? If you really want to help, buy something. And _always _pay up front."

I sat down, feeling a little exasperated. "I _would've_ bought something, but you're closed today. Remember?"

Karen smiled. "Well, today is an exception," she said. "We're having a special for all new farmers in town. Not _only_ will you get all the supplies you need on a day when we're normally closed, but I'll _also_ be charging half-price on all seeds."

"And," she continued, "I'll even throw in a couple of bags of grass seed for free."

I looked through the open door toward the seed display. The grass seed was the most expensive, marked at 500G per bag. "Are you _sure_ you can let those go?" I asked.

"You're going to be a steady customer," she replied. "Since we're the only people in town who sell seeds, you'll probably wind up getting _extremely_ familiar with our selection."

"Now," she stood me up and had me face her more directly, "hand me your shopping list, and I'll get everything together and let you know how much it'll cost. While I'm at it, you can use the phone, since I've noticed you eying it."

Since Karen had made it clear that there'd be no argument, I pulled the small list I'd written that morning out of my back pocket. Although I hadn't needed one the night before, I'd come up with enough junk by breakfast time that I'd taken a pen and paper to Rick's and scratched out a basic shopping list at their table.

And right now, I seriously hoped my pathetic 1500G would cover _half _of what I needed...

Karen took my list and headed back into the main room, closing the door behind her. Left to myself, I picked up the phone and called my parents.

"Please leave a message after the tone." Apparently I'd gotten the answering machine.

This didn't surprise me. No one answers the phone in our house, unless it's someone we know on the caller ID. Even then, there's a 50/50 chance that my siblings would just let the phone ring. Since I'm kind of nervous about calling people on the phone anyway, I just waited for the tone to leave my message.

_*beep*_ "Hi, it's Magnus. Just letting you know I'm going to be settling in Mineral Town for a while, and I'd like it if you could ship some of my extra clothes. I'm staying on Grandpa Smythe's old farm, call me back if you don't have the address anymore. Thanks, and I'll talk to you later."

I hung up. I probably _would_ get a call back, since my parents would want more details, but right now I didn't really want to talk. I loved my parents, but I wasn't much of a socially-minded person.

I opened the door, and found Karen on the other side. Bracing myself for the lecture, I decided I'd just stick to the truth.

Well, _a _truth, at least.

"They weren't home. They both work, so they're usually gone all day."

"Uh-huh." Karen didn't look entirely convinced.

"I'm gonna get the _full_ answer out of you one day, Mr. Mysterious and Shadowy Drifter. I'd make it today," she paused, and looked me over, "but I've got work to do while my parents are out. So I'll let it go, _this _time..."

I winced. I knew I was on edge, between being exhausted, getting irritated at random stupidity, and confronting problems I didn't want to acknowledge. I'd probably have to spend several hours today pulling myself together, and I didn't want to drive someone off by breaking down in public.

After the last time, I wasn't about to trust just _anyone_ with my problems. _You're on your own for this, remember?_

We stepped into the main room of the store. The items I needed were placed on the counter, and Karen walked over to the register to finish ringing it all up. I looked at the total, and winced.

_1000G, and I haven't even bought seeds yet!_

"So," she asked. "what type of seeds can you afford?"

"Weeds," I replied. "All of this stuff is _already_ pushing the upper limit of what I can afford."

"Well, how much do you have after all of this?"

"Only 500G."

Karen chuckled. "Fortunately for you, seeds aren't all that expensive. At half-price, that'll buy you two bags of everything. And since I'm feeling merciful, I'll give you an extra bag of every crop seed in stock, at no extra charge."

"You really shouldn't-" I began.

"-but you're going to. Pay me back by using the profits at our store." she finished.

I gave up. It was clear that I wasn't going to win, and I don't like to fight losing battles.

"All right, but no more being nice to the new guy unless you can _really_ afford it, please."

With that, I paid for my stuff and left, promising to pick my laundry up later. On my way out the door, I heard her mention something about delivery, but I was distracted at that point by what I saw across the square.

Lillia was walking into the clinic, a concerned-looking Rick assisting her.

I headed for the clinic to see what was up.


	6. What Doesn't Kill You

**Canis Lupus**

_**Chapter Four: What Doesn't Kill You...**_

--

At the end of the day, I wanted to die. Not enough to actively kill myself, but enough that I worked myself well into the grave while clearing out my field.

I'm not too proud of what happened after I left the store. After seeing the nice lady who served me a wonderful breakfast walking into the clinic, I decided that I wanted to make sure that she was ok. And while I was at the clinic, I made a new _friend._

A little note kids: First impressions last, especially when you wear steel-toe boots.

--

Walking into the clinic, I headed for the reception desk to ask what Lillia was in there for. The nurse told me that it was confidential information, and since I was here I should probably schedule an appointment for a routine physical. Since I figured I could probably catch Rick pacing around if I waited a few minutes, I played along.

The nurse handed me some insurance forms and pointed to some sterile-looking furniture.

As I filled out the standard medical release information, I heard the front door open. A small boy who looked to be around May's age walked in from outside, muddied up in the standard fashion of kids who have some really nice woods in their backyard. He wore a red button-down shirt that had seen far better days, a pair of blue jeans with the knees worn right through, and some grubby sneakers that looked like they'd walked through a sewer.

Despite the odd mushroom-cut hairdo, I could see that this kid was living proof to a certain breed of kid surviving, in spite of repeated efforts to wipe them out.

Unfortunately, this image comes to me in hindsight. At the time, I was strung out, and only saw a brat about to bug someone.

The kid walked up to the desk and asked the receptionist to look at what was in his hands. When the nurse (who Shroom-boy had called Elli) looked, I could tell that it wasn't anything pleasant.

Elli rushed over to kill her brother, apparently named Stu. Standing up to leave, since I was in a bad mood and didn't want to get into this fight, I wound up as the boy's hiding-place, and my day turned sharply shitways from there.

"Help me!" Stu exclaimed, keeping me between his sister and himself.

Since I _certainly _didn't want to get between siblings, I stepped around Stu and kicked him in the rear with my toe.

As he fell forward, I realized that I'd just screwed up big time.

At this moment, I'll have to point a few things out. First off, I wasn't trying to hurt Stu. I gave him little more than a gentle nudge, not even enough to leave a mark. Second off, I'll remind you that I wasn't entirely in my right mind. I wanted out of there, and Stu had been in my way.

However, those are just excuses. I did something stupid there, and I'm probably gonna pay for it for a long time to come.

--

After an argument that I don't really want to recount word-for-word (if you've done stupid shit in your life, you probably know the gist of it by heart anyway), I stormed off, ready to lash out at anyone unfortunate enough to cross my path.

"Good morning, Magnus. It's nice to see you again after so long."

Turning to the speaker, I saw an old woman in a wheelchair, looking straight at me and smiling. I tried to bring myself to a semi-civil degree of control, since attacking someone who'd only said hello to me was _probably _a little harsh.

Besides, she'd called me by name, and I hadn't met her in my village run-around yet.

Her smile widened as she wheeled herself a little closer to me.

"I see you don't remember me that well," she said, "but that's ok. I haven't seen you since you were... oh... maybe 6 or 7. About the age my grandson is, come to think of it."

"Grandson? Would he be about 3'4", with shroom-cut black hair, soaked in dirt and obnoxious as he- excuse me, heck?"

The old woman chuckled. "I appreciate you watching your language dear, and yes, that would be him. I'm sorry that he upset you, dear."

I must have shown some surprise at her reading me like that, because she eyed me critically, and said: "It's written all over your face, Magnus. I'm guessing that he was annoying his sister again, and that you wound up in the middle of it. Does that sound about right?"

This deflated some the hard rage that'd been building up inside of me. I hung my head a bit and sighed. In the end, I couldn't say anything about it. All I could do was nod.

"That bad, hm?" she almost whispered, her tone both gentle and soothing. "Yes, I can see that you haven't really changed that much from that quiet little boy that always kept to himself when I saw him around."

"Don't worry, child," the old woman rolled a little closer, "things happen, and we don't always behave the way we should when things go wrong. I'll let Elli and Stu know that you want to apologize later."

I looked up. I felt nervous, and more than a little shameful. Part of me wanted to just break down and cry right there, letting out all the hurt I was feeling at the world. Another part of me reminded myself whose fault it was that the world hated me in the first place, and provided quite a bit of self-directed anger.

Holding both of those feelings in was getting harder and harder right now, so I decided it'd be wisest to retreat as fast as I could.

"Thank you..." _Crap._ I hadn't caught her name. Although I _could_ faintly remember an old lady sitting with me in Rose Square a long time ago, I wasn't very good at seeing people as more than part of the background.

And I doubt I'd bothered to ask her name back then anyway.

"Ellen," she said, reading me enough to know why I'd stopped, "and since I can see that you have a lot to do today, I'll let you go. But please, come and visit a poor, crippled old lady from time to time. I'd really appreciate your company."

I nodded, and, blinking tears out of my eyes, ran for home as fast as I could go. It was only after my front door was safely locked that I finally let myself break down.

--

I'll freely admit that I cry. I try not to in public, and I'm not some ever-gushing fountain of tears, but there _are_ moments when things get to be too much, and I have to let it out.

At that moment I couldn't stand myself, and I was feeling every failing I'd ever lived through all over again. I let events go, I release the people and places, but the emotion never leaves. Every time I lose control of my actions, every time I meet my failings, I feel every other moment I've felt the same way.

The pain, anger, and sadness consumed me in a wave of negative emotion. By the time I could get a grip on myself again, the clock had struck noon. I unpacked the things I'd picked up at the store and made myself a couple of peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. Food helped a little, and I was feeling more like myself when the time came to get to work.

--

Looking out on my field, I studied what I'd have to do as carefully as I could.

_Alright, the big rocks and heavy stumps are __**definitely**__ more than you can handle with the tools you've got. First, clear out enough space for your crops._

I made space for all six bags of cash crops I'd been given, pulling up the weeds, breaking up the brush and small stones in my way, and working around the larger obstacles. After that, I got my hoe out and tilled the soil in a distinct pattern I'd seen in one of Grandpa's old journals.

_Three feet across, three feet down, leave a small notch in the side for easier watering._

After planting and watering my cucumbers, turnips, and potatoes, I started breaking up the rocks and brush that littered my field. I was contemplating whether or not to till an area for grass today when I felt a rock hit my back with enough force to bruise. I knew what I'd see when I turned around, and was running toward Stu well before I saw him dashing off toward town, a slingshot in hand.

I'd lost control, and was acting on pure impulse. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to tear him limb from limb and make his remains into a scarecrow. Thankfully, I managed to stop myself just outside my house. I turned around and got back to my fields. I had a lot of work to do.

I felt another rock hit me. This time, I made myself ignore it. After all, I'd earned this. I kept going, cutting brush and breaking down the rocks, putting the wood and stone in the sheds designed to hold them.

_They'll be damned useful in putting up livestock fences,__and__I'll have to get a fence set up for Blitz so he doesn't run off and break a leg on me._

I'd just decided that I _would_ get the space I needed for feed grass tilled out when the third rock hit me. It struck pretty hard, and was a fair bit bigger than the other two had been.

Deciding that I couldn't ignore this brat for much longer, I stood up, turned around, and glared at Stu's defiant face.

"Just go home, kid. I don't have the time to deal with you."

I tend to dismiss people I don't want to deal with, especially kids. It's a bad habit of mine, and because of it I've always had a hard time with kids bugging me at moments when a sensible adult would probably back away.

It should go without question that Stu was not interested in being ignored. He loaded his slingshot again and fired, straight towards my face.

I dodged the attack. I'd had it with playing sensibly, and ran at Stu with murderous intent. On my own I probably wouldn't have caught up with him, merely amusing him and making myself look stupid in front of the whole damned town, but Pyro bit him before I'd gotten as far as the barn.

Stu screamed, and ran away crying.

I knew I'd pay hell for that later, but right now I didn't want to deal with any of it. And since I don't drink, smoke, or use any other substances to mediate my constant emotional storms, I turned to the only mind-killer I had handy. I'd work myself to death.

Plowing forgotten, I got out my scythe and started hacking at weeds.

The field was covered in a plague of weeds, and cutting them with a dull scythe was far from the most efficient way of removing them. But since I wanted to kill myself in my work, I dove in with every ounce of energy I had.

When I finally collapsed from heat exhaustion, I _still_ didn't feel at ease.

_Wonderful,_ I thought. _I've made some new 'friends' already. And by now I've probably been __**completely **__villianized by the town. __**Two days,**__ Magnus, and you've __**already**__ made a jackass of yourself. I think that's a new record. Someone get me a frickin' medal, I'm the worst loser in the world._

Like I said, at the end of the day I wanted to die. Life couldn't _possibly_ be worth this kind of trouble...

--

When Rick came home that evening, he noticed I'd collapsed in the field. As he helped me up, I could see that the irony wasn't lost on him.

"One word, Rick Hunter, and I'll kill you. I'm **not** in the mood to take it right now."

"_Easy_ man," Rick replied soothingly, "I'll let it go this time, don't worry. Right now we need to get you over to the clinic, you look _completely _out of it."

I stiffened a little at the mention of the clinic. I _really_ didn't want to go there right now, not with the nurse probably looking to 'accidentally' poison me with something. There's _plenty_ of ways to kill someone in a doctor's office, and I wasn't sure that the Hippocratic Oath would protect me from an angry woman who'd gotten a firsthand look at my bad side.

Rick noticed my anxiety, but apparently misinterpreted it. "Don't worry man, it wasn't a big deal. Just a few tests, and everything was fine."

Now, I wasn't tracking very well at that point. Sleep deprivation, emotional burnout, and overwork had combined to leave me as zoned out as a hippie at Woodstock. But after a few seconds, I did finally catch up to what he was talking about. "Oh yeah, your mom. What's wrong with her?"

I winced at the clumsy wording, but Rick didn't seem to mind.

"She's anemic," he told me. "The doctor said that she's got a marrow disorder that causes her to produce blood at a slightly lower rate than she needs to. We didn't even know about it until Popuri was about five."

He slowed a bit as his mind traveled back to that period of time.

"I was only eight back then, and I didn't understand everything the doctor told me. But I knew that mom would need my help, and that she couldn't play with me like she used to."

"Of course, my _dad_ didn't take the news anywhere near as well..."

Tuned out as I was, I still caught the bitterness in his voice. "That was when he ran off, huh?"

Rick sighed. "Yeah, pretty much. He stayed for another couple of years after mom's diagnosis, but I don't remember them ever _really_ being close. I remember a few really bad fights, my dad getting really trashed on cheap whiskey one night, and then the next day he vanished.

"My mom's got the divorce papers he signed before he ran off hidden in her room, along with a disgusting goodbye letter. We haven't heard from him since."

I looked at Rick, feeling like shit. I always hate when people do stupid crap to those they ought to care about. Rick had _needed_ his dad, and the asshole ran off at the first sign of serious problems.

_Frickin' jerk-off._

"If you ever find out where he is, let me know," I said, "I'll help you kill him."

Rick smiled, and opened the clinic door. "Forget it man. I'd rather get back at him by not being the total loser _he _was. I can't pretend I'm doing a perfect job," he rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, "but I _never_ run away from the people who need me."

"That's good," I replied. "That's _definitely_ the way to live."

And at that moment I wished I could follow that example. If my _last_ extended stay somewhere had taught me anything, it was that I was more like Rick's dad than I ever wanted to own up to. And I hated that, with absolute intensity.

"Who's this?" a gruff male voice asked. I looked up and saw a young man behind the reception desk.

He looked about 28, with black hair and grey eyes attached to a chiseled face. The nametag on his lab coat introduced him as Dr. Timothy Harding, and from what I could read off him he was probably the professional type, always in control while in public and no excuses to people who can't act the same way.

I wasn't really in the mood to deal with that attitude, but if I was careful I probably wouldn't have to.

"Just a dumb loser that tried to kill himself working," I replied, deciding to take the cynically honest approach.

The doctor looked me over critically and dispassionately. "You should be more careful in the future," he noted, "respect your limits instead of trying to push yourself out of stupid pride."

_No shit! Got any __**more **__obvious advice?_

"I'll give you a small dose of a fatigue-reducing medicine, and keep you here tonight for observation. However, I want you to look after yourself more carefully from now on."

I nodded weakly, not trusting myself with words anymore.

"Alright, I need to get home and get some accounting done," Rick told me. "I'll pick you up in the morning and we'll get breakfast at my place. Later man."

I nodded again as I walked into the sky-blue and white office. Staggering into what passed for an observation ward, I fell over onto a cot and removed my boots and hat. Wait a minute...

_**DAMN IT!**_

I'd just realized that I wasn't wearing my hat. It'd fallen off in the field, and would probably be gone by morning.

_Par for the course. Just one great, big, __**wonderful**__ day for me!_

I felt absolutely horrible.

_Ok, Magnus, let's review. Woke up alright this morning, if a bit early. Breakfast, very good. Looking forward to __**more **__breakfasts at Rick's. Visit to the vet for Pyro, a little more than I expected, but still pretty much ok. Headed over to Supermarket, found it closed. Go figure. Karen helps out, hooks you up with what you need on a one-time offer._

_So, __**most**__ of today's shit started here at the clinic._

I decided I'd do my best to stay in good health from now on so I could avoid this place whenever possible. The doctor gave me a small tablet of Turbojolt to swallow, and I was left to rest in peace.

My last thoughts before finally falling asleep were that if life didn't kill you, it'd damn well make you wish it had.


	7. Harsh Realty

**Canis Lupus**

_**Chapter Six: Harsh Realty**_

--

**Year 1, Spring 3rd (Wednesday)**

My dreams that morning were fairly pleasant. I was firmly set in a sword-swinging, damsel-rescuing, dragon-slaying, and overall day-saving adventure dream, my favorite kind.

And I was just about to get to the X-rated portion of the event when the dragon thumped onto my stomach with enough force to leave me winded.

Gasping for air, I woke up to find an angry nurse hovering over my face, the message on her face as clear as daylight.

_Congratulations, _it read._ You're being discharged now. Now get out, before I decide to make your stay a permanent one._

Picking my boots up off of my stomach (and wishing that the rescued princess had stayed just a _few _minutes longer), I got up and prepared to go home. I checked the clock while I was getting my boots on. 6 AM.

_Man, she really __**isn't**__ giving me a break, is she? Ah well, after yesterday I guess I should just be thankful I didn't wake up in a jail cell._

"The doctor will see you now," the nurse snapped, her tone making it clear to me that she didn't care if my legs fell off, she still wouldn't offer me treatment.

Since I'd made a total ass of myself the day before (_**twice**_), I understood the reasoning behind her prejudice towards me. My guess was that Dr. Harding chose to examine me while I was here.

_He __**wouldn't **__be the procrastinating type, now would he?_

I got up, still swaying a little, and staggered over to the partitioned-off space that seemed to serve as his office. Good guys, the responsible types. Too bad that their standards make me retch. I've tried to be Mr. Responsible Professional, and it didn't exactly work out for me.

Still... handling my checkup now would mean more time spent away from the clinic, which would be a good thing until Elli's temper cooled down. I could see that trying to apologize now would be like throwing myself off the Brooklyn Bridge. It might _sound _like a good idea, but it would be most assuredly suicidal.

"Ah, good morning Mr. Smythe."

Despite the early hour, Dr. Harding looked fully ready for his day. He didn't even have a coffee cup on his desk.

"Shall we begin?"

I then went through the usual checkup routine, respiration, pulse, ears, eyes, all that. Then came the part I was dreading. The blood tests.

I tried to keep calm about it, but I wasn't doing very well.

_You've done this hundreds of times, Magnus, it's not that big a deal._

I tried very hard to believe myself. However, the thing about phobias is that they tend to override rational thought. The moment I saw the needle, instinct took over and I bolted.

Yeah, I ran. Like a stupid three-year-old, I bolted straight out of the clinic and straight _into _a neatly-dressed man who'd been walking in at that very moment. I bowled him over, and he knocked me back into the clinic, where Nurse Elli had restraints ready.

My mind checked out for the rest of the process. I only came back to myself when I felt the surgical tubing removed from my upper arm. Then I noticed that they weren't moving to take the velcro off my wrists.

"We're going to give you a tetanus inoculation Mr. Smythe," the doctor told me, "just to make sure. You're working around a lot of metal after all, and I'd rather not see you die because you cut yourself on an old nail and didn't clean the wound properly."

I tried to relax a little. He was right, of course, and it wasn't as if I hadn't had shots before...

However, as Elli slowly moved the needle across my line of vision, I could tell that she was going to enjoy my little issue with pointy objects as much as she could. It didn't even surprise me that Dr. Harding failed to notice that I was being messed with.

Or if he did, his nurse meant more to him than some nobody who obviously couldn't take care of himself...

--

Blacking out again in self-defense, I next came to leaving the clinic with a reinforced conviction that I did _not_ want to go back there, _ever._ Medical attention probably wouldn't be necessary if I was careful enough. Besides, I was still at the age when my body could take the abuse and survive it.

_I'll skip the guilt-tripping, thank you very much!_

I didn't even notice the small man I'd knocked over in my enthusiasm to leave earlier trying to get my attention. Well, not until he'd raised his voice a little.

"Excuse me."

I turned around and got a closer look at him.

_Neat as a pin, even after being knocked over by someone a good five inches and fifty pounds up on him. Impressive. Charcoal slacks, pressed white shirt, red bowtie, and graying black hair only slightly mussed up from getting run over. _

Since my thoughts were blocking my senses while I was processing all that, I missed the comments he'd made at that moment. Apologizing, I asked him to repeat what he'd just said.

"I said that my name's Jeff, I run the supermarket, and that you left these behind yesterday."

Jeff held my spare clothes out to me. I took them, thanking him for the trouble.

"It's no problem. If you need more clothes though, I can probably get some ordered in."

"That's ok," I said. "I don't need much, and I called home for more yesterday."

"Ah," Jeff replied, "That would explain the 'wrong number' yesterday. I'll have to call that woman back and explain things a little, I guess..."

"That'd be fine," I said. "And right now, I'm late for breakfast. So if you'll excuse me…"

"Oh, yes, of course!" Jeff replied, "I need to finish opening the store anyway, so I guess I'll see you around."

"Right, later."

"Yes, see you later."

I went over, clothes in hand, and headed to drop those off at home before I went to Rick's.

--

When I got to Rick's place, I found that he'd picked up my hat before it'd blown away. Thanking him, I went in and sat down to another fine meal from Pink and Lillia.

After breakfast (which had been rather uneventful), I went back to work in my field. Watering came first, then I got back to clearing the stones and loose brush. Maybe it was just my bad mood, but it felt like the field had grown more of them since yesterday.

_Oh, well. That doesn't matter. I just have to keep killing them as they pop up._

I got back to the weeds after _finally_ managing to clear out all but the biggest obstructions. I decided to play it smart this time, pulling the weeds out instead of cutting them. This saved energy, and I needed that energy to finish cleaning up my dilapidated farm.

--

While at work, I started thinking about yesterday. To me, it was just proof of something that had been ground into my heart a long time ago. The emotional maelstrom I lived with was in full force, and tearing pieces of my soul out with every thought I had.

_No one __**cares,**__ Magnus. Stop hoping they will, you'll just be disappointed. You're alone, and that will __**never**__ change. Damn it, you should be __**used **__to that by now!_

Of course, part of me _was _used to it. Part of me hated that I even had to get used to it at all. Part of me wanted, more than anything else, to have someone to turn to at times like this.

The rest of me knew better. I knew full well that I had only myself, and that hoping for someone else to care for me was just a childish fairy tale. A dumb fantasy that I only _wanted_ to believe could happen.

I went further into my work. Work was all I had, and for now, I could at least try to sink into it.

Maybe if I was too tired to think, I'd also be too tired to feel...

--

It was about eleven when a visitor showed up. It was Karen, and she had a notepad and a basket with her.

"Your mom called," she told me when I came over, "she wanted you to know that she sent your extra clothes today, and that she's glad you're staying somewhere for a little while. She wants you to be careful, and to try remembering to call from time to time."

"Too bad I don't have a phone..." I replied, eyeing the basket with intent to devour.

"Inside. We'll talk over lunch."

Karen moved towards the crude shed I called home. I followed her in, more than a little hungry by that point.

A little conversation, I felt, was a minor annoyance to endure for a lunch that didn't come from Chef Boyardee.

--

So we ate, and she talked, letting me know that there was a public telephone over at the Inn, and that Doug only charged you the price of the call. Since I knew that I'd probably need to call home from time to time, I decided that I'd check it out when I had some time.

Karen also told me that there was a computer set-up in the library, and that it also had filtered internet access. Once upon a time, I'd been an internet junkie, so I supposed I'd probably have to see what the library's set-up could pull up for me.

Then she asked me how I was settling in.

I told her that I was still clearing the fields out, and that I'd probably finish with that before the end of the week. I'd still need better tools for the really big stuff though.

"That's _**not **_what I meant," she said. "I want to know how you're doing personally. I can _see _how well you're doing business-wise for myself."

"I'm alright," I said, giving the socially acceptable answer.

"Bullshit, Magnus. I watched you chasing Stu around yesterday, Elli is a friend of mine, and my dad told me he ran into you coming out of the clinic this morning."

"Actually, I technically ran into _him-_"

"That's _not _the point, Magnus1 I want to know _why _you're acting like such an idiot!"

Karen looked away a little at that point, "If _only _to try and explain to Elli why you attacked her brother..."

"I didn't attack him," I quietly remarked. "At the clinic, I nudged him. I don't know _why _he fell over, I barely gave him a tap... and later... he just annoyed me at a time when I didn't want to deal with it. If Elli feels that I'm the worst human being on the planet, that's fine. I just want to be left alone."

As Karen tried to make me look her in the face, I looked away instead. I didn't want to talk about any of these problems, now or ever.

_**Let **__it fester, _I thought. _I can't deal with it on my own, and guess what? That's right, __**now**__ you're catching on!_

Karen reached out and made me look her in the eye, a firm grip on my chin keeping our gazes locked.

"No Magnus," she told me, a firm edge to her voice, "you're _**not **_going to shut me out like that."

I broke her grip as gently as I could. Standing up, I told her that I needed to get back to work, thanked her for lunch, and headed back out to do more weeding.

As I moved out into the field, I pretended I couldn't hear her frustrated scream.

--

Karen picked up the leftovers and took the basket home. Telling her dad that she wanted to settle the bill at the clinic, she headed over to tell Elli what she found out.

"Go easy on him," she told her longtime friend. "He's afraid of opening up to people, and I think he feels that he'll always be judged harshly."

"It doesn't matter," Elli responded, "if he doesn't want to be 'judged harshly,' then he ought to think before he hurts someone so casually."

"Elli-"

"_**NO,**_Karen. If you let him hurt someone, he'll just keep hurting them because he can. I don't _care _where he comes from, it's _clear _that no one's ever tried to stand up to his bullying. I'm _**not**_going to have my little brother kicked around by him all the time!"

Karen looked at her friend for a moment, and decided that there was nothing she could say or do to fix this now.

"Fine, I'll drop it. I'm heading home now, I'll talk to you later."

Leaving the clinic, she found herself going north, away from the village. Straight to her spot.

She only half-remembered when she made this quiet spring her place to hide, but when she came here she was never disturbed until she wanted to be. She always imagined that some beautiful fairy lived in the spring, and protected her spot so she could always be alone there.

She didn't remember when she hadn't last felt lonely. She'd always had her friends and family in Mineral Town, but she still felt lonely, as if something were missing.

Something that that quiet drifter seemed to fill. Except... he was holding back too much. He really needed to open up to someone. He didn't have to bare his soul to the entire village, but it would probably help if he could tell someone what was _really _bothering him...

Hell, it'd be enough if he could just _trust_ somebody, even if it was only out of sheer desperation...

She had no idea why it would be so difficult for Magnus to just _talk _to her, _especially _since she'd made it clear that she saw right through his bullshit act...

"Why?" she asked, to no one in particular. "What's _hurting _him so much?"

She didn't receive an answer. She hadn't been expecting one.

Sighing, she stood up and walked home, stopping by the winery along the way for some comfort.

Alcohol wasn't the answer, she knew. But it was the only comfort she had on days like this.

And she got the feeling that she'd be needing her 'medicine' a lot more now that that drifter had moved into town...

--

When Zack dropped by today, he looked a little disappointed.

"Nothing to sell today, Magnus?"

"Sorry, working on it."

Zack didn't look appeased. "You could always try foraging, you know. If nothing else, there's that beehive over by the apple tree."

I winced at that suggestion. "I've got a problem with bees. As for forage, we'll see. Right now my priority is clearing out this trash heap that's trying to pass itself off as a field."

"Alright," Zack said as he moved on. "See you tomorrow then."

"Yeah, see ya."

I went back to my weeding, getting about two-thirds of the field cleaned up before I felt ready to collapse. Heading inside, I fell down on my bed almost instantly, not even bothering with a journal entry before I slept.

Today had been a rough day, and there'd be more to come I was sure.

_Tough weeds, rocks that grow overnight, and enough brush that I wouldn't be surprised to meet Dr. Livingston somewhere in there... And aside from that, everyone in town hates your guts by now... And since it's your fault anyway they have the right..._

_And you were dreaming of a bright future. Hah! Welcome back to harsh, cold, realty Magnus! _

_At this rate, you'll probably give out before the end of the season._

Pleasant dreams would _not _be my companion tonight...

--

_**Meanwhile, at the Perch Inn…**_

Rick walked in, and immediately abandoned the idea of a drink.

Karen was passed out on a table in the corner, an empty bottle of Duke's strongest distillation standing on the table beside her.

Picking up the bottle, he shouldered Karen and helped her get home. He knew exactly how much alcohol he could drink before he was in trouble, and knew he was pathetic.

But he _didn't _know how much Karen could take before she got this bad. He couldn't even _remember_ the last time she'd actually been this drunk, and he'd probably be the one to know...

They'd always been friends, of course. Neither of them had ever lived anywhere else, so it was pretty much a no-brainer that they knew each other pretty well...

But their friendship had changed pretty dramatically when they were in their early teens.

Rick had been trying to deal with his father abandoning him, and failing miserably. Karen was dealing with depression, and seeking out romance as a way to deal with it. They'd had a brief fling, but in the end he broke it off, when he saw that it would probably kill them both to try and keep a long-term relationship going.

They were both looking for someone, but it hadn't turned out to be each other.

Still, one issue that had come out of that disaster was their mutual drinking problem. Karen had turned out to have an almost unnatural alcohol tolerance, but she hated drinking.

Rick alone knew this, and only because he'd been there when she'd started. They'd been fourteen, and he'd been staying over at her place for the night. When she'd gotten the bottle out, he'd told her that it was a bad idea.

"I want to stop hurting, Rick. Maybe enough of this will make it stop."

He'd been fourteen, and he'd needed healing as badly as she had. But alcohol can't mend a broken heart, and all it started for the two of them was a dependence they couldn't let go of; even _after_ their parents had found out about it...

As he got to Karen's door, he heard her murmur something, quietly. He couldn't be sure, and later wouldn't remember, but for a faint second, he thought she'd said a name. A name he'd heard a lot recently, from a lot of different perspectives.

Magnus.

He got her to her home above the grocery store, and headed back to the Inn. He only ordered a single glass tonight, just enough to leave him a little more than pleasantly buzzed, and headed home. There, he broke out some of his private stash, and finished the job of pickling his brain for the night.

While brooding over his glass, he remembered that his father had only been at his worst when drunk. And now his father was gone, his mother was sick, his sister needed looking after, the farm needed more work than he could possibly manage on it, and he had to keep it all together somehow, in spite of his own inadequacies and limitations...

And now he added a couple of other problems to his list. Magnus and Karen. His two best friends, and both of them apparently dealing with more than they could take. Magnus didn't have an obvious vice to kill himself on (unless you counted overwork), but Rick could see that he wasn't in the mood to talk that morning. His mom and sister had sensed it too, Popuri not even blinking when Magnus called her 'Pink' by accident. She'd always hated that nickname...

Passing out on the couch, Rick wouldn't remember any of that night's reflection upon awakening, the large quantity of alcohol he'd consumed completely shorting out his memory past walking into the Inn.

All he remembered was that he'd helped Karen home after she'd had too much the night before.


	8. Breakfast in America

**Canis Lupus**

_**Chapter Seven: Breakfast in America**_

--

**Year 1, Spring 6th (Saturday)**

I spent the next three days in a similar funk, clearing my fields, keeping to myself, and generally pissing off anyone who showed up on my property. When I'd gotten around to clearing up all the weeds, I did my best to make the outbuildings as useful as possible.

At least now they _probably_ wouldn't collapse on me...

I woke up bright, early, and about as cranky as I could get this morning.

I'll reiterate this: I am _**NOT**_a morning person.

I'd just harvested my first turnip crop the day before, so I couldn't put off re-visiting civilization any longer. I needed more turnip seeds, and I was planning on buying some feed from Rick in anticipation of buying a chicken soon.

Pulling my fedora snugly onto my head, I headed out to start my day.

Rick had some special plans today, so breakfast was canceled. I'd make do with something later, I figured.

_It's about time I started foraging anyway. Fishing, maybe..._

There was a beautiful stream running along my farm's eastern edge, and I was looking forward to seeing what I could catch in it.

However, an unexpected freefall experience interrupted my ruminations there. I'd tripped over something in my yard that wasn't there the night before.

Kicking it from my face-down position, it felt like a corpse. By the way it was cursing me out though, I didn't think it really was.

You don't tend to complain about a kick in the ribs when you're dead.

"Damn it," the corpse said, "if I could move, I'd kill you."

"Hungry then?" I replied.

"Starving."

"Then I'll make up for the rude awakening by feeding you. C'mon," I picked him up and supported him on my shoulder. I definitely seemed to be getting stronger. "the Inn's probably open for breakfast by now."

I'd probably have to skip the chicken feed. Then again, Rick probably wouldn't open until tomorrow anyway...

--

The Inn was _indeed _serving breakfast, and Mr. Corpse and I were dragged in by the nose. The smell would _kill _you, it was so good...

"Fried eggs, hash browns, strong coffee... I think I'm in love..."

_Wait a minute, that wasn't __**me **__talking. I don't like coffee._

"I know the feeling, man. Though coffee's not really my thing..."

"That's fine. The rest of it's still good. I'd _kill _for a decent meal at a place like this..."

"You won't have to. _I'll _cover the tab today."

"No way man." Mr. Corpse replied, "I don't take charity."

"So _what _do you do for a living again?"

His clothes and attitude indicated that he was as much a drifter as I had been only a week before.

"Ha ha ha. You're such a _wonderful_ comedian. I wonder why you're not on tour yet..."

"Less banter, more breakfast. We'll settle the bill later."

Corpse smiled.

"Deal."

--

The place had just opened, so I wasn't surprised that we were the only customers at this hour. Ann greeted us the moment we walked in.

"Hey, Magnus. Who's your friend?"

"Just a corpse I stumbled across on the way out the door."

"Like I said, you're a horrible comedian man. The name's Cliff, and I'd like whatever special you can shove under my nose in 5 minutes or less."

"Well Cliff, take a seat." Ann looked quite appreciative of the straight-talking Cliff. Apparently this guy was the honest type.

I'd probably have to kill him for that...

"And he stumbled _over_ me, not across me. What kind of klutz are you to trip over something as obvious as a person sprawled in your front yard?"

I smirked. "It's a rare gift," I replied. "A natural talent for disaster, honed by the world's best. And I'm so glad you appreciate my efforts, sir."

Cliff looked me in the eye, shook his head, and flipped me off.

I laughed, and told him not to flatter me.

Ann laughed as well, and put a glass of Coca-cola in front of me.

Word on my single-minded taste in drinks had apparently spread around town.

As we took our seats, she asked what Cliff wanted to drink.

"Coffee," Cliff replied, "Black as midnight, strong enough to dissolve spoons, and _no _additives. And with that, I'll have a corned beef hash, scrambled eggs, and rye toast."

"One hashed brain special, coming up. You made up your mind, Magnus?"

The 'Hashed Brain Special' sounded good, but I decided I was in the mood for something... _lighter..._ today. "Well Ann, what would you suggest for someone who's had Lillia's breakfasts all week?"

"The house special. Frycakes and hash browns. Interested?"

"Sounds good. I'll take it."

"Alright!" Ann exclaimed, heading off to the back to let Doug know what we wanted. I'd never heard pancakes called that before, but there's a thousand different terms for them, so I didn't expect anything else.

But what I got... was _not _a stack of pancakes...

The confection was crisp and light, almost like a cross between a funnel cake and puff pastry. Fruit had been placed in the batter, giving the whole dish a slight liquorice flavor.

I'd rarely had a chance to taste a veryberry before, but the distinct flavor was unforgettable. That was the only thing these 'frycakes' could've been flavored with.

"Like it?" Ann asked me.

"Delicious. Never had anything like it. Tell me, how do you make them? I can't figure that out for the life of me."

Ann winked, and told me that was a Perch Inn secret.

"My dad and I made it up for the Cooking Festival last year, and no one's figured out how to duplicate 'em _yet!_ We're gonna hold out until this year's festival to give the recipe away."

"Worth the wait. When _is _this cooking festival, anyway?"

Ann giggled. "It's the day after tomorrow. I guess you missed it on the town bulletins. This year's theme is drinks, if you want to join in."

I looked down a little. "I _wish!_ Even if I had a good recipe idea, I _don't _have anything to mix drinks with. No kitchen."

"Oh, yeah." Ann looked a trifle abashed. "I shouldn't have forgotten that detail, especially since Joe was one of our regulars for _years!"_

"Don't worry about it," I said. "Easy to forget. Grandpa Smythe was a great guy, but he couldn't cook worth crap."

Ann stared hard at me. "You're probably the only person I've heard call Joe a 'great guy' in my life."

I laughed. "Hey, I _liked _him! Even if he _did_ have that effect on people... Anyway, what do I owe for the meal?"

"Not one red cent from either of you," Doug said, walking out of the kitchen. "Neither of you can easily afford to pay for it, and I get enough tourist business to let a couple of breakfasts slide."

Cliff got up, taking a defiant stance.

"I won't take charity," he said. "I can pay."

Doug shook his head. "Don't let pride get in the way of practicality, boy. Refusing help can hurt you far more than it'll ever free you."

I agreed wholeheartedly. However, since I tended to err about as far on the other side, taking charity whenever I reasonably could, I kept my mouth shut.

"But since you're so interested in paying me, I'll let you work it off. _Both_ of you."

Too bad it didn't help. I sighed, got our empty dishes later, and asked how we could help.

"You can start," Doug said, "by cleaning the dishes you dirtied up. Then you'll be cleaning the bathrooms out. We'll see from there."

And with that, we headed in and got to work.

_Hey, Magnus? Remind yourself to hurt Cliff later._

--

After scrubbing out the bathrooms, washing _all_ the dishes from the early breakfast crowd (who'd come and gone while we were giving the thrones the royal treatment), _and _cleaning out the public laundry I'd heard about (_**PLEASE**_ don't make me go into detail there), Doug finally let me go.

"You've got your own work to do," he told me, "so you can go along while I talk to Cliff here about accommodations."

Thanking him for breakfast, I headed out to get those turnip seeds. I never really liked turnips (who does?), but the profit/growth ratio was good enough for some early petty cash while I got started.

_THUD!_

That was the sound a boot made as it connected with my skull.

Looking the erstwhile projectile over, I was assuming that Karen was a little irritated with how I'd been brushing her off for the past few days.

_THUD!_

Yup. The second boot indicated that the first had not been the result of a freak wormhole. Karen was out to kill me.

Since I didn't want her to ruin her alarm clock on my hat, I walked inside, holding her boots by the laces.

"Good morning, Magnus! How are you today?"

"Fine, thank you. I was just heading in to get some more turnip seeds, and a couple of meteorites landed squarely on my head. Could you please return them to their owner for me?"

Jeff chuckled. "Sorry, you're going to have to deal with her yourself. She's been in a bad mood over something for a while now, and I'm guessing you're it. I'll get your order, and..." he looked more carefully at my now-ruined hat, "I'll see to it that Karen pays to replace that. Fortunately I have that particular hat in stock, as well as the bandanna you've glued over the original band. Just go up and deal with my daughter while I work on it."

"_**What?" **_I stepped back a little at the suggestion. "I'll do it, don't get me wrong, but she _scares_ me!"

Jeff's laughter intensified. "She scares _me _even more, trust me. But don't worry, she _probably _won't kill you..."

"Now go, I'll take care of your order."

I went upstairs into the over-shop apartment Karen and her family lived in. Since this was new territory for me, I took in what scenery I could. The entryway was pleasant, very well-designed and tastefully decorated.

A partition opened into the well-appointed kitchen, from which some very pleasant odors were emanating. Apparently, someone in the house was a serious cook.

A small hallway to the right of the kitchen opened onto four doors, the closest of which would be Karen's. The stairway had been right along the front wall of the store, and Karen's room was directly above the front door.

I assumed that the others opened onto a bathroom, another bedroom, and a utility closet.

Karen chose that moment to burst out of her room, with a look in her eyes that betrayed Jeff's promise that she didn't wish to commit murder.

_**Probably,**_ I reminded myself. _He said that she __**probably**__ won't kill me. Try not to forget the modifiers again please._

_Oh, don't worry. You __**probably **__won't get the chance._

"I **told** you that I don't want to-"

Karen stopped mid-litany, when she realized who'd come to bother her. "You're not my dad."

"No," I replied, trying to stay as cool as possible in the circumstances, "he sent me up here as a human sacrifice. Do you prefer the Aztec style or Protestant?"

Karen smiled, but not nicely. "I prefer Aztec style. Holding a beating heart in your hands is a thrill you can't match in an old-fashioned witch-burning."

"At least you have a knife to use in the process," I quipped.

"Here's your boots back, by the way. Jeff's replacing my hat for free." I didn't think mentioning who was _really_ covering the expense would go down very well with my current audience.

Sadly, the plan backfired on me. "He's taking credit _AGAIN?! __**DAD!!"**_

I got out of the way as she stormed down to demonstrate hell's deepest fury to someone else for a while. I knew she'd be back when she knew who was _really_ paying for my hat, but for now I'd take the break and roll with it.

"She's on another one of her crusading moods, isn't she?" a voice asked me from the kitchen. A moment later, an elegant woman stepped out and introduced herself as Karen's mother, Sasha.

"So tell me," Sasha continued, "what's she trying to help you with?"

"Um... Well..." I was a little nervous about that. I liked to avoid dealing with my issues whenever I could, and my problems with Karen were just another of those issues I was trying not to think about, much less deal with...

"I see. I'll talk to her about letting you settle in, then."

That kind of shocked me, since I hadn't said anything out loud.

"It's an old habit of hers," Sasha continued. "I keep telling her that someone's personal business _isn't _any of hers, but she's always insisted on making everyone's problems her own."

She sighed. "And I thought she'd finally gotten over it, too."

I thought about that. I didn't really know why she had to bug me either, but I _would_ try to deal with it on my own. "That's not really necce-"

"Yes, it _is_ necce-. _Extremely_ necce-." Sasha smirked at the cheap line. Honestly, so did I. Cheap lines are the baseline for my sense of humor anyway, and a bad quote can be fun to share, especially in context.

"Seriously, Magnus, I don't think that you really need to be involved in this argument. I'll talk to her about giving you some space to settle in, and you can let her know if she's getting too overbearing for your comfort."

"Um... thanks, I guess..."

I could tell that Sasha had her heart in the right place, and was _definitely _a good person. Maybe I should've told her about the fight I saw coming when she tried to lecture her grown daughter, but she probably saw it coming anyway.

I didn't really _blame _Karen, of course. I _did _feel like she was pushing me at inconvenient moments, but I also knew that her attack on me and my problems was probably the best approach she saw to opening me up...

I decided that I'd let things play out for a few hours. I had chores to do still, and trying to interfere now wouldn't solve anything.

Some instinct told me where I should be though, and I'd head there when the time was right to finally lay this argument to rest.

"I need to get to work now, Mrs..." I stopped. I'd just realized that I'd failed to pick up Karen's surname, and by extension, her mother's.

_Don't you __**ever**__ ask for full names, you dumbass? _

"Hayes," Sasha supplied.

"Yes, I'll drop by sometime, maybe you can treat me to dinner. But I really must be-"

"_**MAGNUS!!"**_

While Sasha stood up and went into combat mode, I ducked out the door the moment Karen opened it, pushing her aside and tripping over about half a dozen stairs before I recovered my footing.

Thanking the deities for stair rails, I grabbed my new hat and seeds, plonked down 240G, and was out the door like the cornered rogue I was.

--

Anyway, Sasha confronted Karen, she started shouting at a level audible from _my_ fields at the very least, and I rushed to finish my watering before she stormed out in a rage.

I managed to duck into the stable before Karen spotted me. Soothing Blitz (who had picked up on my nervousness), I groomed him and waited for Karen to pass by on her way to Mother's Hill. I had no idea why they call the local rocky outcrop something so pathetic, but I guess the name stuck after no one could think of something better.

I cleaned up the field and the buildings, and then headed to clean out the chicken coop.

An egg was lying in the incubator. Taped to the side of the device was a note:

"_Consider this a late housewarming present. It'll hatch in about 3 days. Sorry you haven't been feeling so well lately. There's some feed in the bin by the door for when it hatches. It's an egg from the __**Gallus Valkyrie **__subspecies, so the eggs will be pre-fertilized when they're laid._

_Good luck, and keep up the good work!_

_Lillia, Popuri (Stop calling me Pink, please), and Rick_

_PS from Rick: Nice work fixing the place up! Still needs work, but it'll hold until you can see Gotz (the local carpenter) about it."_

My eyes were a little watery. It was nice to have friends like Rick, and I really appreciated what he'd done for me. I'd have to try and thank the three of them when I could.

For now, I had some important business to deal with, and it couldn't wait any longer.

--

When I arrived at the small spring off Lake Kappiam, I found Karen crying her eyes out on a large rock by the bank.

I don't know how I knew that this was where she'd retreat, but I wasn't in the mood to ponder mysteries anyway. I was nervous, unsettled, and more than a _little _scared... but I had to confront this, here and now.

If I didn't, I'd just hurt Karen more and more. I didn't want to do that.

I took my hat off, and sat down quietly. "This is a really nice hat," I said, in a rather weak attempt at small talk. "Your dad did a far better job gluing on the hatband than I did on my old one."

"Shut up," Karen snapped. "If you don't want to talk to me, then just leave me alone."

"I'm sorry," I said, as gently as possible. "I'm a little too used to having only my own company sometimes. I never meant to hurt your feelings."

"Liar." Karen glared at me. _"Mom _doesn't see through you, but _I _do. You just keep running away, never letting yourself get close to anyone. What makes you want to isolate yourself so damned much anyway?"

I stared into the pond as I gave my reply.

"About three years ago, I was staying in a town north of here a ways. It was a nice place, kinda like Mineral Town, and I was doing some passable work as an unskilled laborer. I had a steady supply of work, a good network of friends, and things were looking up. I had a good life..."

I sighed.

"And I was thoroughly miserable."

"First off, I was hitting the glass ceiling. I didn't have the skills or the knowledge to improve myself any further. That was beginning to affect my work on a lower level, and I was just letting everyone I knew down."

"Second, I wasn't universally popular. The people who I hung out with were ok with me, but they weren't always around, and outside my circle I was pretty much considered a total jerk. I am, of course, but that's beside the point."

"Finally," and my gaze turned skywards, "I'd fallen in love. Or, at least, I'd been deeply attracted to someone."

"What was she like?" Karen asked me.

"Well, she was pretty, and fun to be around. She had a goofy sense of humor that I liked, and we got along alright for a while."

"But then, I started needing her more than she needed me. She was already in a relationship, and wasn't interested in me as much as I'd hoped she was. I started obsessing over her, and wanting to see her more and more."

"But in the end, she didn't want to see me at all... I'd scared her away with my feelings."

"After that, she moved away to another town. I tried to move on for a while, but eventually the stress got to me. I decided to take a vacation and try to forget about her that way."

"And what started as a 'maybe a couple of weeks' deal turned into my walking away for good. I had some friends pack up what I didn't take with me, and ship it all to my parents in Port Magellan. I headed wherever I felt like going, and just didn't stop."

"Until you came here, at least."

"Yeah... That's pretty much it."

I knew that my cheeks were wet, but I didn't care. I'd needed to tell someone about all that, and Karen was the first person who really seemed to want to listen in a long time.

_Don't forget, you thought that other one really cared too. Oh, yeah, and she's seeing Rick, too. Don't try to depend on her, you'll only end up hurting more._

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did," I replied.

Karen ignored my horrible comedic sense. "What was her name?"

I thought about it, and decided to evade. "To be honest, I've forgotten. It's been a while now, and I've mostly gotten over the worst of the hurt."

Karen glared at me. "I don't believe you. All of that, and you're still trying to bullshit me. Still..." she got up, and dusted off her shorts. "I guess I tried to rush you into opening up. I'm sorry, Magnus. I'll try to take things a little more slowly. Don't think I'm letting you get away though."

I got up and dusted the seat of my own jeans off.

"That's fair," I replied, "and I'm sorry I caused such a big fight earlier."

Karen extended her hand. "Don't worry about it. I deserved what I got, and what I'm going to get later. Please, talk to me if you need someone."

"Alright," I said, taking those words at less than face value. I'd found that people rarely meant them. "And thank you."

Karen smiled, her cheeks as damp as my own. "It's no problem, Magnus. Just _don't _try to make yourself an island, ok? I'm here, and I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

We broke away, and headed home in companionable silence. Along the way, I noticed a small bush growing veryberries. Since they had a decent sale value, and I was hard up for cash for a while, I snatched what I could as we passed.

--

We said our goodbyes at my house, where I put the double handful of berries I'd collected in the shipping bin, and Karen walked straight home to take her hits for running out earlier.

I spent a few hours grooming Pyro and playing with him, and did a little channel-surfing, since I had the time. Nothing I wanted to see was on though, so the TV went back off.

I laid back on the aged couch that served as the sole chair in the entire house, and contemplated my future.

_Well Magnus, chickens are forthcoming, congratulations._

I'd heard of the _Gallus Valkyrie_ breed, and they were not only the big new commercial chicken, they were still as rare as honest politicians. I assumed that Rick had probably sold himself to prostitution to acquire even the one egg that was warming in my incubator at that very moment.

Still, that would wait for another day. What was on my mind was what move I needed to make next.

_Well,_ _you could probably upgrade your hammer and axe a little to finish clearing those fields. And after that, how about getting a kitchen? Oh, and a bathroom. Oh, __**yes,**__ you need a bathroom, Magnus! Get to it, chop-chop!_

My mind made up, I spent the rest of that evening cleaning up my axe and hammer to the best of my abilities. Neither was in perfect condition, but I hoped they'd be upgradeable within a week or so. I needed my fields cleared out, and getting materials for renovations would go faster with better quality tools.

I also considered the Cooking Festival, to be held in a couple of days. The idea of turning down free food repulsed my vagabond nature, so I knew I'd be attending that.

And come next year, I'd dominate it. I didn't bother to cook that much, but when I did, I could make some very good cuisine, and I could be as fussy over technique and ingredients as _any_ frenchman in a tall white hat.

So, all in all, I ended this day on a good note. I didn't expect that to last, but it made for a nice change. I fell asleep, dreaming good dreams of a very erotic nature.

All was well.

--

_**Author's Note:**_ A quick thank you to my reviewers, without whom I would've scrapped this stupid farce less than a day after I started it. I hope you continue to enjoy my pathetic attempt at a story. Until next time!


	9. Food for Thought

**Canis Lupus**

_**Chapter Eight: Food for Thought**_

--

**Year 1, Spring 9th (Tuesday)**

I woke up in the clinic with a bad headache and an uneasy stomach. Stomach flu, some would call it. Actually, I had a case of food poisoning. And right now it was _seriously_ asserting itself.

_Bathroom, Magnus. __**NOW!**_

Rushing into the toilet, I sat down and let the diarrhea pass. My system was clearing itself out as fast as it could. Meanwhile, I was left to reflect on how I got here.

_Let's see... Oh, wait. __**Now**__ I remember..._

--

**Year 1, Spring 8th (Monday)**

The day of the Cooking Festival dawned bright and clear. Since the festival was an open-air event, this was a good thing. Still, it meant that I had to water, so I'd probably end up a little late. I showered, dressed, and grabbed a couple of granola bars for breakfast. Then I got to work.

My watering was an intense workout, and keeping the fields as clear as I possibly could with the tools I had took up most of my energy and time. I got over to Blitz's stall around 10 AM, and groomed him up a little.

As I was brushing him down, I got the impression that he was a little stressed.

Thinking about it, the problem finally came to me. In all the time I'd owned this horse, I hadn't _once_ let him outside. He needed some exercise, a little space, and _certainly _some fresh air once in a while... However, since I'd need a fence to make sure he didn't run away on me and get himself injured, that'd have to wait until I could build one.

_Good thing split-rail fencing is so damned easy to put up..._

Putting that chore on my mental to-do list, I got Pyro some lunch (consisting of whatever I could scrounge around for that he could eat), and checked my new egg.

It wouldn't hatch until tomorrow, but I wanted to make sure it was alright before I headed out for the afternoon. Better safe than sorry, after all. I didn't want the chick dying from neglect.

With all that done, I'd suddenly noticed that my potato plants had died off. They'd grown their whole cycle, and it was time to harvest. _Now I really __**will**__ be late,_ I thought.

_Still, they need to be harvested before they rot in the ground... and the money __**will**__ be worth the task._..

I grasped the stalk of the nearest potato plant and got to work.

--

I showed up at the festival around 2 PM. The contest itself didn't start until 3, so I'd managed to show up with just enough time to browse around, and maybe pick up a few goodies from the food stalls set up around the square.

Checking my wallet, I found I had about 2000G to blow on festivities. Yesterday's forage for what edible herbs and berries I could recognize had turned out to be surprisingly lucrative, especially since I wasn't much of a botanist.

_Just imagine what you could've brought in if you'd known what you were doing,_ I thought as I looked through the stalls.

Doug and Ann had both set up food stalls with what would undoubtedly be the best stuff here. Still, I'd have to try what everyone else had come up with, to be fair...

I'd save the pros for last.

Closer to the end of the square I'd entered from were the other competitors. Sasha and Lillia had set up their tables by the southern fountain (which marked the border of the square, along with the northern fountain in front of the inn), and the last stall made an island in the center.

Looking at the sign on the center tent, it advertised "Manna's Mom-Made Munchies." I chuckled a bit at the pathetic line.

_**Sure,**__ it's catchy, but it sounds like a bad video game translation..._

I'd have to meet someone who'd be so blatantly tacky. Walking over to the stall, I took a close look at what was on display.

_Fruited gelatin, from-scratch macaroni and cheese, oven-roasted potatoes, and what looks like a slightly-overdone pot roast. When she talks about mom-made, I'm guessing she actually __**means**__ it._

I suppose I should've been thankful that the menu didn't include such Americana favorites as Spam Surprise, Mystery Meat, and Guess This Mess. I did have _some_ sense of taste, after all...

"Good morning, sir! Always glad to have a tourist drop by to try my delicious home-made meals!"

A middle-aged woman had turned to address me. She wasn't particularly _old, _unless you felt like being casually insulting, but her clothes, hairstyle, and general manner indicated that she wasn't very _young, _either. She looked to be about my own mom's age, and if her cooking was any indication, probably acted closer to my grandmother.

_Oh, yeah. Miss Perfect Mom of 20xx... Or of 195x... And naturally, her life's probably nowhere __**near **__the domestic bliss she's hiding behind._

I'd rarely met the 'domestic ideal,' but the few times I had, I got the overall impression that they needed _serious _mental care. In my mind, trying to hide your problems from the rest of the world simply caused you to go completely psychotic.

Then again, consider the nutcase who's talking.

Speaking of speech, Manna had just about gotten through the small-talk. She'd been going on about how poorly the town had been doing of late, how wonderful it was to meet young travelers passing through during such a wonderful festival, and wouldn't I please try more of this _delicious_ pot roast she'd spent hours preparing that morning.

I nodded, and gave the occasional affirmative grunt when needed.

Thanking her for her generosity, I wandered off wondering how the hell my gender had managed before they developed the 'Yes, Dear' listening filter.

Walking towards Lillia's setup, I suddenly noticed a flash of red in one of the side streets.

_Pyro. I didn't really give you much of a breakfast, now did I?_

Glancing to make sure Manna was otherwise occupied, I bent down and gave my dog the heaping plate I'd just received. I didn't have a refrigerator, and I'd have to pace myself if I wanted to get through everything at the festival... So sadly, only a sampling of Manna's wonderful cooking reached my taste buds.

_She's a good cook, if not anything you'd pay 15 bucks a head for... But I've got other pots I want to check today._

_After all, _I thought, _I can't expect to show up for dinner __**every**__ night. Not if I actually want dinner, at least._

Keep in mind, I still had no working kitchen. I'd take hot meals where I could beg, borrow, or (if _absolutely_ necessary) buy them.

It smelled like Lillia was serving some fresh pan-fried fish at her stall. Confirming that fact with my eyes, I also noticed that she had a couple of soufflés that she was serving up.

_Ok, __**now **__I'm impressed. You'd need __**serious**__ skills to make a soufflé at a portable setup like this!_

Approaching the stall, I was greeted by Rick, who was helping his mother out.

"Hey, freeloader! The smells are 250G each!"

I laughed, plonked down my 250G, and told Lillia that it was a real bargain.

"I'm glad you think so, Magnus," Lillia replied, taking my money and returning with a wedge of cheese soufflé and a fillet of beautiful pan-fried sunfish.

_Probably caught fresh, then,_ I thought, _since most varieties of sunfish aren't commercially processed..._

The fish was very lightly coated with hollandaise. _**Again **__with the eggs... Still, I guess you use what you can readily get... And it's all __**so**__ good..._

"You'll want to head over to Sasha's stall now," Lillia said, breaking my reverie at her delicious entree. "She's got a nice spring salad to counter the rich food I've been stuffing you with."

"Rich, but delicious," I replied. "I'm guessing that you coordinated this setup?"

Lillia smiled wickedly. "It's more effective than pretzels at a bar. Feel free to come back for more later."

Cackling with mirth, I promised Lillia that I'd look into it later. I wanted to try and save a _little _of my money to buy potato seeds tomorrow, but if I absolutely _had_ to have more, I thought I might be able to sneak out with some leftovers during the evening cleanup...

Sasha's crisp spring salad had been a marvelous dish, fresh greens mixed with spring mushrooms and carrots and lightly tossed with a vinaigrette dressing. She even left the boiled eggs optional, which I appreciated since I disliked them.

Don't ask me why I don't like boiled eggs; I just don't.

With Lillia and Sasha operating their wonderful pincer strategy, I figured I'd better see what Doug and Ann were serving up before I broke down and attacked the other three stalls for everything they had.

"Hello, kind sir. Will you be looking what I have for sale today?"

The mystery voice that addressed me in broken Engrish belonged to a rather thin-looking man in a yellow theater costume.

Although he looked like he did _indeed _have a little asian ancestry in his blood, his costume told me that he was probably as genuinely chinese as Chung Ling Soo.

What I really _knew, _of course, couldn't fill a thimble, but I knew enough about theater to guess that he was putting on an act. And that right here, that probably meant he was trying to legally rob me.

Or, to put it bluntly, I thought he was probably out to cheat my pants off.

"I'll look," I told him, "but that doesn't mean I'll buy anything. And you can drop the act, it doesn't fool me."

"Ah, an intelligent, discerning customer, I see," the Yellow Shyster replied. "Allow me to introduce myself then, my name is Won, grand purveyor of imported goods."

"Imported from whose warehouse?" I bantered, showing my usual incautious disrespect.

"Hahahaha, you make a good joke, kind sir. I assure you, my goods are stole- er, I mean _acquired,_ of course, from only the finest and most distant merchants."

"Nice to know you haven't been stealing anything locally, I guess. Still, if things should go... _missing..._ I'll have to introduce you to my friend Officer Harris."

Won's glasses slipped down his nose a little as he stepped back. "I shall keep such thoughts in my mind always, dear customer. And might I offer you something _exceptionally_ rare in return for such kind advice." With that, he reached into his backpack and produced a heart-shaped red berry.

"This item," he began, "is nothing less than a genuine Power Nut! It is guaranted to increase the strength of he who devours it tenfold! A god customer like yourself is the only kind worthy of such a rarity."

...

...

...Alright, _now_ he had my attention. I'd _heard _of Power Berries, and even _seen _a few here and there... but the fruit was so rare that only a select handful ever got to taste one in their lifetimes!

The fact that this pusher had one made me more than a little suspect though.

So ultimately, my first question was not the "How much?" that Won was hoping for.

_My _question was, "Who'd you _swipe _this from!?"

"How _rude,_ dear customer!" Won replied, feigning insult. "I actually aquired this rarity by comletely honnest means!"

"Alright, how?"

"Well..." Won began, "I was traveling here from Flower Bud Village yesterday, when my foot slipped and I fell in the small lake north of this town. A gren fairy then attacked me!"

"A green fairy?" Was he about to dance around, throw some confetti, and spew some nonsense 'magic words' at me?

"Well, it _was _green, but I could not determine who he was at the time. I'd recently acuired a large stock of quality Cucumbers that I was going to sell right here today, but he stole every one of them! However, then he rescued me."

"Huh?"

I was more than a little baffled by his story by this point. I'd gotten that someone in Flower Bud was missing a _lot _of cucumbers loud and clear though...

"Yes, he rescued me! I asked what I owed him for such a deed, and he told me that my cucumbers had been more than payment enough! Then he gave me this and told me to go away. So now I sell you this for only 1000G, dear customer! I want no more."

_Again _with the broken English... This guy was a _real _piece of work, wasn't he?

Still... his story was probably genuine, and I could probably check up on his 'green fairy' if I took some cucumbers to Lake Kappiam later.

"Alright, how much then?"

"Ah, for you,1500G, kind sir. One-time Golden Service offer!"

I bought the Power Berry on the spot. Trust me, 1500G is cheap for these rarities. I've seen them go for three times as much at auction.

Devouring the sweet and tangy treat, I discovered exactly why.

_Mmm, mere mortals could __**die**__ eating this stuff! So worth it if I keel over today, though..._

...No, I _didn't _realize how ironic that statement would be at the time. I was just thankful that I wasn't sounding like a Natsume video game translation after listening to Won's pitch for five minutes.

Now, on the plus side, I'd just had a _wonderful _gourmet experience.

The downside, however, was that I was now one hundred per cent dead broke. Between Lillia and Sasha I'd spent 500G on food. With the 1,500 I'd just paid Won, I was out of spending money until my potatoes were picked up.

Since I'd seen Zack wandering around the square as I came in, I wasn't betting that it'd be today.

Raising my hands in defeat, I headed over to the Perch Inn stalls anyway, to see if I could qualify as a judge or something.

--

"Sorry, Magnus, but we don't need another tasting judge. And I'm afraid that you wouldn't qualify as one anyway."

I had to fight down my anger at that rejection. True, I wasn't all that picky an eater, but I _could _discern the good from the bad reasonably well, _and _I had a taste for the best.

Still, if the mayor had someone else to do the job, then I wouldn't argue the point.

_Cool it, Magnus. Remember, it's nothing personal. Just forget about it._

Willing myself to be calm, I thanked the Mayor for his valuable time on such a busy day, and asked if he'd seen Harris around.

"He's over at that table," Thomas replied, pointing to one of the picnic tables set up in the large tent that Ann and Doug were sharing as a display booth.

"Thanks, Mayor Thomas." I walked over to Harris and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hmm?" Harris looked up from the sliced brisket sandwich he'd been munching on. "Oh, hi Magnus. What's up?"

I told him about my encounter with Won, being careful to omit the fact that I'd bought something _off _the shyster.

"So you think he's up to no good?" Harris asked.

"I think he's a suspicious character. As far as I know, he hasn't done anything illegal here in town, but I think it would be a smart move to keep a careful eye on the man."

Harris nodded. "You're right, and I'll see to it. Could you give me a description?"

"About 5'11", sallow skin, dark brown eyes, black hair tied back in a thin braid. He had a 'Ming the Merciless' moustache, and was dressed in a yellow-and-red mandarin coat with matching hat. He was also wearing prescription glasses, roughly the same shape as Rick's."

"Are you sure they were prescription?" Harris asked.

"He was seeing quite clearly, and the lenses were thick enough that he wouldn't if he didn't need them. He looks like he's got some asian ancestry, but he's at got at least one direct relative from somewhere else. He speaks with a slight asian accent and somewhat broken English, but I get the general impression that both are an act. You get all of that?"

Harris finished writing on his notepad. "Sure did. Thanks for the heads-up."

"No problem Harris. Enjoy the festival."

"You too," he replied, going back to his slightly cooler sandwich.

My double-cross accomplished, I was about to find a seat and wait for the contest to begin when I bumped into someone.

Now, to call this someone a person would be an accurate statement.

However, to say I wasn't looking for Ahab to come in on a longboat wouldn't be.

He looked like he weighed in the upper 300s easy, and that very little of that mass was in muscle. To say he was morbidly obese would fail to describe just how far this man's equator had migrated.

_**DAMN!**_

I was hoping that my initial reaction to his size hadn't been reflected in my face as the planet-sized man turned to greet me.

I quickly reined in my thoughts and schooled my expression. "My apologies, sir. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Ah, that's perfectly alright," Gargantuan replied, in an _extremely_ rich tenor. Whatever this man was doing here now, I was betting that his day job was probably on stage. Or at least _had _been at some point...

"I should probably introduce myself," I said, remaining on my best party manners to keep my minor shock down.

When you encounter someone who could probably eat you if offended, you should probably not give them a reason to do so.

"My name is Magnus Smythe, and I'm a local agriculturalist." Intimidation had me breaking out heavy vocabulary in defense. After all, calling yourself an agriculturalist made you sound a lot more important than a farmer, even if the basic terms were more or less synonymous.

"Ah, helloooo sir! Mayor Thomas was just telling me about you earlier!"

Well, so much for _that_ defense...

"Call me The Gourmet. I travel around the world looking for the _best _dining experiences it has to offer! And I must say, all of the food they have served here today is quite _exquisite! _A shame that Ms Hunter's hollandaise can't qualify for this year's contest, isn't it? And the simple pan-fried fish that she served it with was well-suited. Don't you agree, Mr. Smythe?"

I smiled. "Actually, yes. And her cheese soufflé was excellent as well, wasn't it?"

Gourmet smiled further. "Ah, a fellow connoisseur! Yes, rather exquisite, and the spring salad Ms Hayes was serving complemented both nicely, especially with the slightly acidic vinaigrette!"

"Manna's cooking was rather nice too, I felt. Maybe not restaurant-perfect, but the slight imperfections give the dishes a unique charm, I think."

"Ah, they do at that. I'm glad I met such an appreciator of fine cuisine as yourself, Mr. Smythe." Gourmet shook my hand. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to prepare myself for the judging. I look forward to your entry next year!"

I nodded, and sat down as he walked off for a large chair that was clearly set aside for him.

"Man, you'd better keep working at that farm Magnus."

I jumped, startled. Watching Gourmet, I hadn't realized that I'd sat down right next to Karen. She had a nasty smirk on her face, and it was clear to me that she was going to start on the fat jokes.

"Yeah, the way I appreciate a good meal, I'd have been harpooned _years _ago if I didn't keep moving."

Karen shook her head, a hand on her forehead. "All the good fat jokes out there, and that tired old line is the best you can come up with?"

"On the fly, sure. But go easy on him, he's got good taste. Even if he _does_ look like he'd be terrorizing Gotham City if he changed into a black tux and got an umbrella gun."

Karen chuckled lightly. "Better, but still lame, Magnus. I'll refrain from insulting the nice planetoid, though, since you don't want to hurt his feelings. Care to treat me to some of Lillia's fish?"

"I'm broke, sorry. Maybe another time."

"Too bad. What did you buy off that shady-looking guy in the alley, though?"

I was a trifle stunned. "You had an eye on me?"

Karen laughed. "I was finishing up my entry for today's contest in my mom's kitchen. I didn't have much of a view from there, but that tacky straw fedora you wear is hard to miss. And Mr. Shady's clothes stood out even more."

I told her about my encounter with 'Mr. Shady.'

"So you bought something off of him, and then promptly reported him to Harris?"

"Yeah, I know. Completely underhanded. Still, the Power Berry he had was the real thing."

Karen shook her head, and got up from her seat. "I don't get why people would spend so much money for so little. Still, if you wanted it, that's your business."

I shrugged, knowing I'd probably done something stupid with my money. Wouldn't be the first time I've blown a wad on something not worth the price, and probably wouldn't be the last, either.

"Think I could get a sample of your entry before you turn it in?" I asked.

"Sure," Karen replied, "but I need to hurry. The entry call will be any second now, and they close down fast. I've missed the last three contests just because I was in the back of the line."

Now, if I'd been paying attention, that would've been sending off warning bells in my head from here to Erehwon.

However, I was feeling a little unfocused, so I took the flask she produced without question.

I don't _know _exactly what I drank. It tasted slightly of raw egg, but that was rather heavily overpowered by the combination of clashing spices and over-caramelized (or rather, _burnt_) sugars.

It brought my attention front and center though, that's for sure.

_**DAMN,**_ _how the hell do you burn a __**drink,**__ anyway? I've heard of bad cooks, but apparently Karen takes a class all by herself!_

As I was passing out, I heard Dr. Harding mention something about a death wish, drinking the whole flask like I had.

Mayor Thomas mumbled that I'd saved lives, disposing of Karen's cooking as I had.

Harris called me very brave, and very stupid.

Anything else anyone said washed over me as I slipped into unconsciousness.

--

_**Meanwhile, at Goddess Falls…**_

The being known as the Harvest Goddess looked down at her amphibious counterpart, with clear displeasure in her eyes.

"And what," she intoned, "was the intent of tainting that Power Berry?"

The water demon looked down rather sheepishly. "That man in yellow stole the cucumbers he offered me. I gave him the Berry as a punishment."

"And it never occurred to you that the man, being a salesman by trade, might hold onto it and give it to another?"

Shifting his feet, the kappa of Lake Kappiam responded honestly. "No, it didn't occur to me. And maybe if you allowed me to-"

"I believe I've made my views on the more... _traditional _attitudes of your kind perfectly clear. You are not allowed to harm _anyone,_ directly or _indirectly. _I went to a lot of trouble to make sure that Magnus wouldn't get sick from drinking Karen's 'Chili-Caramel Milkshake,' and it rather _**irritates **_me that all that work was undone by your impulsive actions."

"Whatever," Kappa snapped, turning to go. The two of them might be magically bound, but to him that just meant that he didn't have to take _**her**_attitude any longer than necessary either. He didn't particularly care if that farmer she was obsessed with died, but neither did he really care if he lived. His kind were generally impassive toward humans, except as prey.

The Harvest Goddess sighed as she watched him go.

She'd be all day fixing this, so she'd better get started.


	10. Truth or Consequences?

**Canis Lupus**

_**Chapter Nine: Truth or Consequences?**_

--

**Year 1, Spring 9th (Tuesday)**

_Go away, loser._

_We don't __**want **__you playing with us, __**loser.**_

_Go __**die **__or something, just leave us alone!_

_"Agh!"_

I awoke from my nap, trying to shake the nightmare from my mind. The worst of the food-borne illness had passed, but I knew I'd be held for observation for another day, at least. The doctor had come in after my reminiscence in the bathroom to confirm it. I was stuck here for at_ least_ one more night.

Nurse Elli was about as thrilled about it as I was.

It was lunchtime before I remembered one important detail, though. Nurse Elli came in with my lunch, consisting of a hard-boiled egg, some saltine crackers, and a glass of orange juice. I was about to note my dislike of boiled eggs, when my memory finally kicked in properly.

"Damn it, the egg!"

Elli looked at the egg on its tray with an understandable degree of perplexity.

"I just remembered," I explained, "I've got an egg in the incubator at home that should've hatched this morning. I know it's stupid for me to go right now, but I need to check up on that."

I got my boots on, grabbed my hat, and nearly passed out.

_Damn it, I'm still too dizzy to walk straight. I'll never get there!_

My thoughts of that chick, dying from neglect on the first day of its life, gave me enough determination to stagger towards the door. However, it didn't give me any strength, and I almost collapsed at the reception desk.

A warm, firm hand gripped my arm. Turning carefully, I saw Nurse Elli grabbing a windbreaker jacket with her other hand.

"Since this is a matter of life and death," Elli told me, "I'll help you get there. But it's straight into bed after that, and no further activity. Understood?"

I nodded, weakly. My mind was foggy, I felt like I was freezing to death in the open air, and I knew I'd kill myself trying to walk over there on my own.

Elli got under my arm in a walking-support stance, and we left the clinic on our way, _hopefully, _to the rescue.

--

We reached my farm without incident. I walked over toward the chicken coop and opened the door, stepping over a sleeping Pyro as I did. Flipping on the lights, I walked toward the incubator to check on things...

...Or rather, I _would _have. When I flipped the switch, the lights hadn't come on. Flipping the switch a few times to be sure, I realized that the light was dead. Since I'd changed the bulb in my recent maintenance, that could only mean that the power was out.

_No..._

Frantic now, my head pounding from the fever (and from worry), I got over to the incubator.

The incubator was dead. So was the egg. Cracking it open, the pathetic chicken embryo glistened wetly in the semi-gloom.

Taking the chick in my hands, I walked slowly back to the open door of the coop.

Elli waited for me there, a concerned look on her face. If I'd really been paying attention, I probably would've noted what a shame it was that we'd gotten off to such a bad start.

The combination of abject heartbreak and pounding headache had me in a less-than-thinking mood, though. All I knew was that this poor little animal had died, and it'd never even had a chance to live.

Sometimes I wonder why I don't get attached to things like 'normal' people. Times like this remind me. When I get attached, I can't stand to let go, _ever. _And I'd grown to love this sad chick, even if it had only been mine for three days, and even if I'd only ever known it as an egg.

I had to know what happened.

"Meter," I said, lurching a little as I turned toward the pole where my power lines met the local grid.

"What?" Elli asked, apparently a little confused about my second non sequitur that day.

"The power box," I replied, "I want to check something out."

Elli followed me as I made my teetering way over to the electricity meter that measured my farm's usage.

My dad had worked as a line installer for a few utility companies, before he'd branched out and started his own contracting service. As such, I had a passing knowledge of how a utility meter worked.

And a bad childhood experiment I'd made told me what had probably happened while I was out.

I was right. As I got to the box, the breaker box that connected my line to the county's power grid wasn't locked like it should've been. The door was slightly open.

I reached in and flipped the breaker back on, ending my unscheduled brownout.

I sighed. Someone with a mind for mischief had figured out how to play with switchboxes, and my bets were on Stu. Not that I thought he was a bad kid; an hour's analysis of my dumbass actions that day told me who'd been firmly in the wrong quite well. But he _was_ the only person in town I could think of who had the right motives.

Since I'd been avoiding both him and his sister as much as I'd been able to, I didn't know if he'd had the opportunity.

Still, it didn't really matter anymore, now did it? The damage was done, and the problem couldn't be resolved when I felt like puking from the adrenaline surge I'd been operating off of since I'd gotten out of the clinic.

I knelt down in the weeds, felt for the security tag, and, finding it, hung it where it belonged. The tags weren't really meant to be removable, so I couldn't replace it fully. I'd just explain what happened to the next guy who came to read the meter.

Elli helped me back up off the ground, and slowly, we headed back to the clinic. The sad remains of my first chicken were still loosely clutched in my left hand, and my defeatism was in full swing within my mind. I was quiet. I didn't really want to talk. All I really wanted now was to rest, and let all this go.

If I let it go, maybe it wouldn't hurt so much.

Part of me wants to believe that we all tell ourselves little lies like that, to prevent the overwhelming truth from destroying us. Part of me wants to believe in a lot of things, actually. Some better than others. I don't think anyone wants me to actually believe that extreme violence solves things, for example. _That_ belief has caused too much suffering as it is.

"Too late to save your patient, then?" A voice asked from the right. Turning my head slowly, I saw Ellen pushing her wheelchair toward us, a look of quiet sympathy on her face.

I hung my head, shaking it slowly. Closing my left hand a little more, I tried to stand a little straighter and turn toward Ellen.

"At ease, Magnus. I heard about yesterday." Ellen chuckled lightly. "First time in a long while that a local ate that much of Karen's cooking _voluntarily! _Guess no one warned you?"

I chuckled weakly in return. "If I'd paid closer attention, I probably would've been tipped off anyway. I didn't, I wasn't, I got mine. I'll survive."

Elli started pulling on me a little, getting me to head towards the clinic, now just across the square from us. I got the general impression that most people in this town lived either on top of, or next to, the place they worked.

_Dream commute,_ I thought. I never _did_ get around to learning how to drive, so having everything I needed in easy walking distance was my idea of paradise.

"C'mon, Magnus, you need to get back to your bed now," Elli stated, apparently worried that I'd turn into an old-lady kicker in addition to a child kicker.

I _would've _tried to tell her that the 'incident' with Stu was a once-off, but unfortunately that wasn't the whole truth. Even if the last time I'd hit someone was years before, back when I was in school (I was just _loved_ by the administrators), I still hadn't forgiven myself for it.

We re-entered the clinic, and found two people there waiting for us. The first was Dr. Harding, a look of disapproval on his face. When he asked me what I was doing out of bed, I simply showed him the dead chicken embryo that I was still clutching in my left hand. Mumbling apologies, I headed back for my cot. I needed rest, and I wasn't going to get it arguing.

The second person who'd been waiting was Stu, and as the doctor admonished me to throw away the remains of the chicken embryo and wash my hands, I saw him run out the door.

...Well, caught him running _somewhere_ out of the corner of my eye, at least. I was too tired to pay close attention; I was just following orders and being a good little automaton.

In less than five minutes, the fuss was over, and I was back in bed. As I went back into a feverish sleep, I began dreaming about a happy place where chickens frolicked, played, and got to attack old men in white suits with impunity.

--

**Year 1, Spring 10th (Wednesday)**

I woke up in a cold sweat, starving and thirsty.

Lurching to my feet, I began wandering around to see where they kept the food here. I'd check the mini fridge they kept the vaccines and such in first. I was thinking a little more clearly now, and the fact that I was sweating meant that the fever had probably broken.

Still, I'd feel better after I'd eaten.

The lobby of the clinic was completely dark. I didn't have enough light to see the clock by, but I was betting that it was past midnight. Going behind the receptionist's desk, I started looking for a medical cold storage unit. Unfortunately, all I found under the desk was a large mushroom. One that screamed in surprise when I accidentally woke it up.

Gently holding the mushroom before he could get away, I then proceeded to _politely _ask...

...Alright, alright. I _wasn't_ very polite when I asked him what the hell he was doing here after-hours. Do I _seem_ like the completely civilized type?

"Don't call me kid!"

I sighed, and tried again. _Carefully,_ this time.

"Sorry, I'm sure you're _quite_ grown-up and manly at all of seven years old."

...

...

...I think it's clear that I have no real sense of tact, isn't it?

"I'm eight and a half, asshole." Stu replied.

"Charming language, kid. Does your sister know you talk like that?"

"_I'M NOT A KID!!!"_

"What's going on down there?" a feminine voice asked from the stairwell.

I wasn't surprised that we'd woken someone up, of course. The racket we were making with our little argument could've woken the _dead._

"Sorry, I was just looking for a midnight snack. There was an odd mushroom under your desk, and it got really loud when I found it."

Stu fumed at my report, and with good justification. Even if it _was _language an eight-year-old shouldn't know, he pretty much hit the nail on the head when he called me an asshole.

And I was in _fine _form tonight...

"Mushroom? What are you talking abou... oh. You really should be in bed Stu. Grandma's probably worried sick about you."

Stu stared at the floor, and half-mumbled his sullen reply. I could just make out "hates me now" and "asshole" before I rapped him on the head.

"_Ow!"_ Stu exclaimed.

Before Elli could get in about me hitting her little brother, I made my issues with his comment clear.

"First off, Stu, I already told you that your language is inappropriate, however accurate calling me an asshole is."

"Second off, your grandmother doesn't hate you. She's trying to help you see where you made a mistake, and you ought to at least _try_ to understand her point of view before running away."

"And third, if you want to make sullen excuses, then _please _do so at a level of tone high enough that the intended target can hear you. Seriously, I was right next to you and I _barely_ caught the relevant facts."

As I looked down at Stu's sullen expression glaring up at me, I felt a rap on the head not unlike the one I'd handed out ten seconds ago.

Turning my head, I saw a rather irritated nurse giving me the same eye her brother had.

"You've made some _very _good points about the inappropriateness of my brother's behavior, Magnus. _However,_ that does _**not**_give you the right to hit him. Understood?"

I nodded, more irritated than angry. "I'm sorry about all the dumb crap I pulled. Seriously, I was out of line and I know it."

Elli sighed, looking tired and more than a little exasperated. "I'm not sure I can forgive you that easily, Magnus."

"I'm not expecting you to. I'll head back to my bed, Stu can go home and take his medicine, and you can deal with formal apologies tomorrow, when everyone's well-rested. Alright?"

Elli looked at me more critically, though I had no clue why. No one I'd hurt, however unintentionally, had ever _really _looked at me as anything less than a monster.

I was _used _to being the outsider, I didn't _need _sympathy...

_*sigh*_

...Alright, I'm lying to myself again. Gimme a break, already.

Elli sighed, stepped forward, and took her brother's hand.

"You're right, this can be dealt with tomorrow. C'mon Stu, I'm taking you home."

Stu followed, with all the enthusiasm of a man walking to the gallows. Personally, I thought he was being a little melodramatic, but since I was just as bad at his age, I wouldn't give him a hard time about it.

Not _this_ time, at least.

As I laid back down, I considered more carefully what I was like when I was eight. As I examined my own development, I realized that Stu and I had a fair bit in common. And as I was already well-aware of, I'd _massively _screwed up in how I'd handled him.

Kids that age hate to be dismissed, _especially_ when they need attention.

I realized then that that was probably what Stu needed the most. His sister was busy working all the time, and his grandmother couldn't _possibly_ keep up with the antics of an intelligent, active eight-year-old while in a wheelchair, no matter _how_ much the spirit was willing...

And that's when a horrendous scheme began to take shape within my fading mind.

Drifting off, I softly chuckled to myself, imagining the terrible things I was about to do as I fell into a dreamless resting state.

--

Later that morning, Dr. Harding woke me up with a gentle shake and the smell of breakfast. Bacon and eggs, both prepared at the Perch Inn. I don't think the doctor was too thrilled about the type of meal I'd been provided, but I know _I _was.

_Thank youuu, Doug! Good cooking is __**just**__ what I need to get back on my feet!_

Taking the nondescript brown bag from the good doctor's hands, I dove into my breakfast with a gusto generally only seen at a pig pen (or a high school cafeteria).

"Given the way you're eating your breakfast," Dr. Harding said, a look of mild disgust on his face, "I'd say you're over the worst of the food poisoning. I'd like you to drop by tomorrow though, just so I can be sure."

I nodded as I dove into the hash browns. The doctor went on about them being closed today and how he valued his off-time, but I wasn't really paying attention to anything but breakfast. Not eating anything in two days tends to sharpen one's appetite, and mine held a razor's edge under _normal_ conditions.

Neatly finishing off the last bit of fried egg with a corner of my toast, I then proceeded to get myself dressed. My clothes were a little overdue for a wash at this point, but that couldn't be helped. I'd change when I got home.

"Well, doc," I said as I stood up, fully dressed and ready to go, "Thank you for the lodgings. I'll recommend you to all my friends, and make sure to check in again soon."

"I'd just as soon you never need to 'check in' again, if it's all the same." Dr. Harding said, cracking the first smile I could remember seeing on him. "And please, call me Tim. Professional formality is understandable, but I prefer to get away from my job when I'm off-duty."

"At least," he flippantly amended, "when someone doesn't decide to _break_ _their_ _**arm**_ on my day off..."

"What, did that happen once?" I asked, imagining Stu being _just_ that well-timed in injuring himself.

Dr. Harding (excuse me, _Tim_) blinked a couple of times, and then laughed heartily. His deep tenor echoed through the lobby of the clinic, and I wondered if we were actually on the same wavelength.

"No, thankfully," Tim managed to say between laughs, "but you can just _imagine_ Elli's kid brother having _that_ sort of timing, can't you?"

I chuckled along now, hypothesis confirmed. "Sad, but true. I was about as bad as he is at that age, so I'd know."

Tim was still chuckling. "I bet. Take care, Magnus, and don't be scared to drop in from time to time. Although," his expression went back to 'professional mode,' "I _meant _it when I said I don't want you spending the night _too _often. Don't abuse your body just because you can, or you'll regret it later."

"You're probably right," I replied, my hat on and one foot out the door. "Have fun today, Doc, I'm heading off to enlist some child labor. Later!"

I ran off before Tim could catch on to what I was talking about. He'd probably get the whole story from Elli later. Right now, I needed to enlist some... wait, I meant that I wished to offer Stu a nice, _fun _time playing on my farm.

At least, that'd be my pitch. We all know what it _really_ is though, right? Of course we do.

I headed across the square and knocked on Ellen's door, hoping that she'd be up so I could handle this before I went back to work. I was pretty sure that my crops would need re-planting today, and I wanted to get onto that.

Elli, wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe over grey sweatpants and a blue teddy-bear shirt, answered the door.

We will now have a brief moment of silence in honor of my sorry, leering corpse, which will be mercilessly decapitated in about five seconds.

_SLAM!_ The front door came at me with a rush, missing my nose by about .07 seconds. Apparently I'd have to wait.

I sat down and leaned against the decorative picket fence that marked the border of Ellen's front yard. Settling down to wait while Elli got dressed (and trying to imagine what the other girls I'd met in town wore to bed), I almost missed someone passing by.

In fact, if they hadn't kicked me to get my attention, I probably would've completely ignored them.

"Morning Magnus!" Ann said, _far_ too cheerfully for 6:30 in the morning. "Enjoy your breakfast?"

"Yeah, I did," I replied. "Thanks."

"No prob. Dad'll send you the bill later."

I looked up, suddenly a little more alarmed. _"WHAT!?"_

Ann giggled, her laugh reminding one that when all else was said and done, she was still a girl.

"I was kidding, don't worry! Even a deadbeat like _you _deserves a free meal when they're sick!"

"Well, I guess I'll have to get sick more often then."

Ann's humor evaporated like a campaign promise after an election.

"Don't even _joke_ about that, Magnus. Every memory I've got of my mom is of her being sick, and I _don't_ like it when people take being healthy so lightly. _Got it!?"_

Ouch. I think I might've struck a nerve. "Ok, I'm sorry!"

"_You'd __**better**__ be sorry!"_ Ann sighed, and took a few deep breaths, probably to calm herself down. "What are you hanging around here for, anyway? I would've _thought _you'd head straight home after getting out of the clinic..."

"Well, while I was in town I thought I'd deal with some business I've been putting off."

Ann lived in a town with a population of less than 50 people. She worked in the town's only restaurant, and was a girl besides.

Therefore, I wasn't surprised that she knew _exactly _what I was talking about.

"That, huh? About time. Is it true you ordered your dog to attack him?"

"Not really. Pyro just decided that he needed to help me on his own. Dogs will do that sometimes in a fight."

"How would you know?"

"Firsthand experience."

Ann looked at me critically, not sure what to believe or what to expect from me. Well, let her stay in the dark.

_It's not really her business anyhow, and if it's important I'm sure she'll get the gist of it from a friend or neighbor._

I decided to end the conversation, hopefully without committing suicide.

"Well, I'm sure you've probably got a lot to do today, so don't let me hold you up," I said, nonchalantly getting back to my waiting position. "Catch you later."

Ann smacked me, called me an asshole, and stormed off.

Let's face it, folks, when it comes to charm, I'm no James Bond. Not by a _**damn**_ long shot.

Just then, the door opened, and Elli stepped outside; towing Stu behind her. Ellen, a blanket covering her up to the shoulders and wearing a knit sleeping cap over her hair, followed discreetly, closing the door behind her.

As I stood up, Elli shoved her little brother in front of her, leaving him in a no-man's-land between the two of us, and asked Stu if there was anything he'd like to say to me.

"Actually," I interrupted, "I think I should go first. I'm sorry for how I've treated you in the past few days, Stu. My behavior was out of line and I know it. I should've exercised more control over my temper when dealing with you. Will you please forgive me?"

I knelt down as I said this, bringing myself to Stu's level.

Stu hit me square in the nose.

I took it, waving off Elli's near-interference. This had to play out, and I was going to let it.

"It's your fault that chick died."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because... because... _I don't know, alright?"_

Stu tried to hit me again, but I dodged this time and gently grabbed his wrist. When he tried to pull away, I pulled him into a hug and let him cry things out.

I'd _been _a lonely kid once. I'd _been _where Stu was right now. I _knew _what he really needed most right now, and I wanted to help him find it.

"It's ok, alright Stu? I can get another egg to hatch. I'll even let you raise this one, if you want."

Stu didn't look up.

I didn't expect him to trust me; I'd already made it clear to him that I wasn't his friend, at least within his own mind. But I was pretty sure I could help him anyway.

Even if I had to play the villain to do so.

"Well, even if you _don't, _I'm going to make you."

Stu did look up now, a combination of surprise and anger on his face.

I smirked, knowing I had him right where I wanted him now.

"That's _right _Stu, you're not getting off the hook so easily! From now on, you'll be my assistant on the farm. Consider it a way to pay me back for those windows I need to replace. After they're paid for though, I _might_ consider giving you some pocket money for the work. That'll depend on whether or not you can work hard and do the job right, of course..."

"_**Absolutely NOT!"**_ Elli cried out, her face livid with rage. Checking Ellen's reaction though, I knew she'd caught on to my scheme.

Now to see if I had an ally in her...

"Relax, Elli. I'm sure Magnus won't let Stu come to any harm while he's at work. And it'll be _good_ for him to keep busy while you're at work and I'm taking my afternoon nap. He _needs_ something like this."

_Not really,_ I thought, as Elli placed her own concerns about both my reliability and her brother's safety forward. _What he __**needs,**__ he'll probably never get. But this is the next best thing, and hopefully I can pay enough attention to him to keep him out of __**serious**__ trouble._

Ellen cooled Elli down, convinced her that if anything bad happened, Stu would be _immediately_ sent to the clinic and that if I was too abusive to Stu she'd _personally_ bring him home. I was really glad to have Ellen's trust, and hoped that I didn't lose it while trying to help her grandson.

I had too much to lose if that happened, and it'd be all too easy if Stu and I didn't find a way to get along.

Seriously folks, I've decided that I like the squirt. I'd treat him like a brother, honest.

The problem is, I'm not _exactly_ the role model sibling. I'm more like the older brother some of you _actually have._ You know, the bullying, overbearing, I-was-here-first-so-I-deserve-more type?

"Alright," Elli said, breaking me out of my soliloquy. "Show him around today, and I'll let him start first thing tomorrow. He still has to go to school, but from 6 in the morning until then he's all yours. I'd like to see him around when I'm not at the clinic, so he gets Wednesdays off."

"Sounds fair," I replied.

"I'll negotiate how much he'll make when you feel he's paid off his debts," Ellen chimed in.

"Absolutely fair," I said, silently thanking Ellen for taking that issue out of my hands. "Now then Stu, I think we should head over to my place so I can show you what you'll be doing. I'll drop by Rick's on the way to pick up your charge."

Stu refused to meet my gaze, a sullen, discontented look on his face. Given the situation, I felt that I probably understood why. I'd thrown a pretty good situation at him, but still, it wasn't _his_ choice. It'd be an uphill battle to get him to enjoy something if he wasn't willing to give it a fair shot.

Still, I had one last trick up my sleeve that _might _help motivate him...

"If we hurry, we might catch May before she heads home. I've got her helping me with my horse."

Stu was off like a shot. Thankfully, in the right direction.

_Guess the normal prejudices don't apply when there aren't as many other boys around,_ I thought, thankful that my little trick had worked.

I let Stu run ahead, since I knew _exactly_ where I'd catch up to him. Chuckling, I headed home. By way of Rick's, of course.

Had to get a replacement egg, after all...

--

When I got home, I noticed something odd about the crops. Specifically, they were properly watered. I dipped a finger into the soil to be sure.

_Yup, still damp. Needs more for today, but someone actually took care of them while I was stuck in bed. I wonder who..._

Unfortunately, I didn't have much more time for introspection. A shriek from the stable indicated that I was needed for a quick rescue, and that Stu needed to learn what he'd be doing for the foreseeable future.

Life, for me, was getting back on-kilter.

Humming an old Beatles tune that'd suddenly sprung to mind, I headed over to save the day once more, this time from a much easier peril.

_Ob-la-dee! Ob-la-dah! Life goes ooooooon! Tra-la-la-la, life goes on!_

--

_**Author's Note:**__ My sincere apologies to Jersey Strat-o if I got the above lyrics wrong. And to my readers if I got too inconsistent with this chapter. It's been a little while since I picked this up._


	11. The Tax Man Cometh

**Canis Lupus**

_**Chapter Ten: Birthday Blues (or: The Tax Man Cometh)**_

--

**Year 1, Spring 15th (Monday)**

_*Sigh...*_

I sat in my quiet homeshed, staring at the ceiling and feeling depressed.

Although things had gotten better for me since the incident at the Cooking Festival (and the disastrous aftermath), I was still feeling pretty down. The reason was pretty simple, really: it was my birthday today, and I hadn't gotten so much as a card.

Then again, since you probably want to know what else happened today, I'll rewind a little; to when I got up...

--

The alarm clock blasted with its familiar buzz. I'd owned this particular clock since I was in first grade, so hearing it wake me up was comforting, in a way. Not that I was in any state to feel pleasant...

Oh, yeah. My stuff showed up day before yesterday. In addition to more clothes (including some nicer stuff to wear to festivals), I'd gotten a few of my more useful personal effects, such as my old alarm clock and my camera. I'd also received a ticket from Flower Bud Village, indicating that a small fine was due from the last time I'd used my camera in public.

That's a ridiculously short and painful story that can wait for another time, though.

As I woke up, I dealt with my usual morning routine, slowly restarting my mind to process the tasks at hand today.

I'd finished putting up my horse fence, with Stu's 'help' (actually, he'd just chased Pyro around with a stick, but since he couldn't catch up to Pyro I chose not to interfere), but I'd need to feed my new chicken, Chihiro (May named it, much to Stu's distaste), and of course my crops needed watering, and probably harvesting. I didn't really track when they were planted versus when I pulled them out of the ground, but it felt like a harvest day to me.

And now I had that ticket to add to the list. Of course, I'd paid half that fine for the camera itself, but I'd pay it off anyway, when I could. It'd put a serious dent in my budget for a while, though...

But that would be _nothing _like the dent the next surprise would put in my wallet...

--

Walking out the door, I found that someone was waiting for me. He was a tall, lean figure in a black three-piece suit, pale as death in complexion and wearing shades; as if to _accentuate _his evil vibes...

If it weren't for the wild afro, I'd have taken him pretty darn seriously. With it, though, I was just on my guard.

"Can I help you, sir?"

"Ah," Darkness replied, "you would be Magnus Smythe, then?"

"And if I was?"

He pulled out a business card and handed it to me. "My name is Sam Brewer, and I work with the Internal Revenue Service. I have some business to discuss involving your late grandfather."

"So speak," I said, sitting down on the porch step as I did so. Since I doubt the IRS would've sent someone _personally _if I was owed money, I wasn't going to be hospitable to Mr. Brewer.

...At least, not until _after_ I knew exactly how much he wanted me to pay...

"Well," he began, "your grandfather owned this farm up until his death two years ago. However, during the last three years of his life, he failed to pay the necessary property taxes on this farm."

"Right," I said, interrupting him, "Uncle Sam is short on cash, and you told your bosses you could shake this place down a little; now that there was someone to run it. Since my grandpa was incapable of working for the last few years of his life, and spent them in the care of the town, he couldn't make any income, and therefore couldn't pay taxes. Naturally. So cut the crap and tell me how much you're extorting out of me, weasel."

"That was quite unnecessary," he replied.

"_**How much?"**_I repeated, losing patience.

Mr. Brewer sighed. "The back taxes on this property are equal to 500,000G, due three years after someone assumes responsibility for the property. If they're left unpaid, then all rights to this property default to the US Government, to dispense as it sees fit. You're rather fortunate that you managed to surface just before the statute of limitations ran out for a relative or other beneficiary to assume responsibility for this estate."

"Right. And I assume that all taxes normally incurred by my ownership and use of this property still apply, right?"

"That is correct."

"Thank you for informing me of this issue then," I said, at my kindest and most civil. "Now get the hell off my property before I take a blunt axe to your head, you disgusting sycophantic parasite. I have half a mind to give you what you deserve right now, consequences be _damned._"

As Sammy the Tax Man ran off, clearly affronted by my "Completely Uncalled For" hostile behavior, I ran in to get my tools.

Fully awake now, I could tell that it was going to be one of those days...

--

After the usual chores were done, I got my hammer and axe and went to the smithy. I'd spent some free time over the past few days collecting ore to repair my equipment, since I'd never get _anything _done with my tools in the shape they were in. I could do a little maintenance on my own, but I lacked the equipment and skills to do any _serious _fixes...

...And so I found myself in Saibara's Smithy.

"Those tools are in horrible shape, boy," a voice from the shadows told me.

Tracking where the voice was coming from, I saw a somewhat grizzled old man step out of the small gap between the forge and the wall. This, I assumed, would be Saibara.

"I know," I replied, "That's why I'm here."

Without much pretense, he took the axe and hammer I'd brought along with me and examined them critically.

"Hmph. At least you know how to clean a tool up. I can probably fix these, but I'll have to re-forge them to do it. It'll cost you 1000G per, and I'll need you to pick up some iron ore before I can do anything. You'll find some at the local mine, up the trail by your farm, just at the base of the hill. Can't miss it."

"I know." I plonked down the money, and with it the ore Gray said I'd need. "Gray told me about the ore requirements one night over dinner. Said you had him mining there for weeks before he found what you wanted him to get."

"Did he now?" Saibara looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned away from the counter and put my tools on a workbench by the back wall. "Hmph. Glad to know he's actually _learning _something. Your tools will be ready in a couple of days, Mr. Smythe. Now, head over to the Inn and tell my grandson that his break's over, would you please?"

"Sure thing," I replied, dashing off for the Inn then and there.

I was looking forward to having an axe and hammer that I could actually use...

--

When I got to the Inn, I discovered that Gray had gone over to the local library.

Thanking Doug for the info, I then dashed off in the direction he'd pointed me towards. I hadn't really been this way before, since business had usually sent me to the woods north of town, or else to the store, town hall, and other areas on the south end of the square (or of course, to the clinic, which was just across the street from the smithy)...

Of course, I was still running. And because I was still running, I wasn't really watching where I was going. So it really shouldn't come as a surprise that I ran into someone on the way.

Bouncing off of this someone like a pinball, I was forced to change gears for a minute.

Looking at the other side of my car-free wreck, I found I'd run into a man dressed much as I was. Blue jeans, a button-up shirt in emerald green, a brown leather jacket zipped up to mimic a sport coat, and a fedora matching the shirt in color. The whole thing indicated he'd probably seen the Indiana Jones films when they came out, and enjoyed them to boot.

I didn't mix styles like that, but I could tell that this gentleman and I shared a taste in clothing at the very least.

"Ah," he said, "You must be the new farmer in town. That saves me some time, since I was just heading over to your place. Allow me to introduce myself, my name's Basil Jones. Well, _Professor_ Basil Jones, if you want to be formal about it. And you are?"

"Magnus Smythe," I replied. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Jones."

Basil laughed. Since I'd been faking a British accent on that line, it wasn't really a surprise.

"Considering how often I hear that at work," he said, "You'd think I'd get tired of it..."

"Just shows you can appreciate the joke, I guess."

Basil nodded. "When you adopt a leather jacket and a fedora with _my_ surname, you might as well get used to the inevitable. I'd like to talk with you about your work, actually, so when would be a good time?"

I thought about it. "Well, I've got to track down the blacksmith's grandson first, so that he can help Saibara fix my worn-out tools. Then I was just planning to head to the woods and forage for a bit. Maybe I'll check with the local carpenter first, so I can get an estimate on getting my house out of a 'Condemned' status."

"Alright, I'll follow you into the woods for a while. Maybe I can show you some of the more valuable plants that grow wild in the area. Then I'll drop by your place first thing tomorrow, and you can show me around. Sound good?"

I nodded. "Sounds perfect. I'll duck into the library real quick, and we'll be on our way."

With that said, I headed into the Mineral Town Public Library without further incident. There, I found Gray reading at one of the tables on the first floor, and gave him a gentle nudge to send him off.

But just as I was about to head out myself, I heard a stack of books call out for assistance.

"Gray, could you give me a hand before these- oh, thanks. Ah... oh..."

The girl in front of me blushed. I figured I'd better introduce myself before I scared her off.

"Sorry, I just sent Gray back to work. My name's Magnus, it's nice to meet you."

The black-haired girl mumbled a reply that I didn't quite catch, and (somewhat timidly) returned my handshake.

"Mary, have you seen where your father went?" a voice from the stairwell asked.

"He just headed outside, Mom." The girl replied, in a slightly more confident tone. Apparently, she was just a little shy with meeting new people. Having similar troubles, I could relate.

"Well, Mary, I need to head out. Your dad was rather interested in teaching me the local botany, and I'm not one to skip a free lesson. We'll probably be in the forest outside of town if you need to contact us. Nice meeting you!"

Mary nodded, and went over to the receptionist's desk. I headed back out of the library, and found Basil waiting for me.

"Well then, ready to head out?" he asked.

I nodded, then dashed after him as fast as I could go. Apparently Basil was a man with energy.

Made me wonder if I could keep up...

--

Over in the woods, Basil taught me how to identify the most valuable plants that grew in the area; as well as which ones were edible, which ones tasted _really _good, and occasionally which ones were both. He was just as kinetic as I'd feared, never really stopping for anything.

He also knew all the side paths and game trails, meaning that he could move through the woods in ways and places I'd never imagined were navigable.

Of course, since he was wearing a leather jacket, sometimes his paths were a little more likely to scratch _me _up than they were him. Plus, he didn't always remember that I wasn't as familiar with the local terrain as he was, which meant I sometimes lost sight of him. And since I was completely turned around, that was a pretty bad thing.

It takes a lot to get me lost, but Basil had a talent for twisty paths that Dedalus would've envied.

Finally, we'd found our way back to Gotz's cabin, which marked the line between the town and the woods.

Basil cheerfully said his goodbyes, and told me to keep everything we collected; which was enough to fill my backpack pretty much up, so I was guessing I'd made a pretty good profit there (for forage, anyway). Then he headed home, where I assumed an angry wife awaited him.

Nevertheless, I waved, and told him I looked forward to tomorrow's visit.

What can I say? The man's energy rubbed off a little.

Gotz was back from looking my house over by the time I'd started heading towards the inn for some dinner. Since his first question was whether or not I owned a pair of ruby slippers, I was guessing that the news wasn't too good.

"Nah, but I _do _have a dog, if that counts for anything..."

Gotz shook his head and chuckled. "Well, the good news is that you've got all the materials I need to fix it up. I'll even throw in a bedroom and a kitchen, and expand the bathroom for ya."

"Sounds good," I said, "and how much will it set me back?"

Gotz shrugged, "5,000G. However, if you can't pay that right now, I seriously recommend getting a room at the inn. You're lucky it's stayed up _this _long, and I'm pretty sure that it won't last another season."

I nodded, and checked my wallet. It encompassed the grand sum of 4,230G, not quite enough to cover the costs.

Plus, I still had dinner to buy, and a room to rent out at the inn if my house was being renovated, _and_ I'd need more seeds to plant after my next harvest...

I looked into my backpack. Well... maybe another 1,000G or so...

Then I remembered the fine I owed. _And_ the back taxes on my property. _And_ the backpack upgrade I was trying to save up for...

I sighed. "I don't have 5,000G. Is it alright if I pay you 3,500 now, and the rest when I can?"

Gotz considered this. "I don't like to do jobs on credit," he said. "It doesn't set a good precedent. I need to eat, after all; and I don't get much work out here, either..."

I held my hands up in a gesture of submission. "I don't like credit either," I said. "But I'm up against the wall right now, financially; and since you've decided that my house is _officially _unlivable..."

Gotz considered this, and nodded. "Alright," he said, "but just this once, kid. And I'll be wanting you to pay me the rest before I'm done with the job, understand?"

I nodded, gave him the 3,500G I had, and headed over to clear my stuff out of the house.

Fortunately, I hadn't unpacked the boxes I'd gotten from home yet, so this wouldn't be too much of a challenge.

--

When I got into my house, I gave Pyro a quick pat on the head, and got my stuff together to move out.

To my surprise, a small package had been left on my bed.

That someone had left it inside my house wasn't a surprise at all. The lock on my door had been broken at _least_ since I'd moved in, and I'd found out when it last rained that my porch was slanted the wrong way. I almost had to build an ark, the flooding was so bad.

So Harris could easily slip in and leave my packages on the bed, and that's just what he'd been doing for the few years my grandpa had still been living here.

No, the surprise was that I had gotten anything at all. No one would've remembered my birthday here, and my parents had sent me my clothes close enough to my birthday for that to count.

Opening the box, I found that it contained a package of printer paper. With an invoice printed on each and every sheet.

Apparently, the news that a leachable substance had taken up the property had gotten around.

I'd burn them all later, after I'd added up exactly how much I apparently owed to whom.

I laid back on my bed and sighed, staring at the ceiling and feeling depressed. It was my birthday, and all I'd gotten were a bunch of bills for services rendered to a dead man.

I _love _the spirit of human generosity...

--

Anyway, I got my stuff together and headed over to the Inn as soon as I'd gotten myself together. Doug greeted me, told me that Gotz had been by, and that he'd let the room out for free, meals included.

I nodded my thanks, and started to head for the stairs.

This is when the phone rang.

Now, the Perch Inn is the only establishment in Mineral Town with a public telephone. When you look the town up in the area's phonebook, it's listed as the number for local information. So, if the phone rang here, it could've been for anyone. Nonetheless, I actually beat Doug to the receiver, despite being over four times as far away from it.

Answering, it turned out to be the one person I'd been hoping would call.

"Hi Mom."

My mom's voice came through the receiver, loud and clear. She wished me a happy birthday, and asked how I was doing.

"I'm doing fine, Mom. Still getting started, but I could be a lot worse off than that."

"_Glad to hear it, honey. Please, try to talk to us when you have the time. We still care about you, you know..."_

"Yes mom. Sorry I haven't called, I've been a little busy. How're things at home?"

Well, the pleasantries went back and forth for a while, and we both said our reluctant goodbyes a few minutes later. Setting the receiver down, I decided that I wanted a meal before I went up to my room.

It'd give me time to sit down and soak things in.

"Sure thing, Magnus," a voice beside me answered. "Who were you on the phone with?"

I looked over, and saw Karen sitting down beside me. After telling her what I'd been on the phone for, she smiled, and told me she'd cover the tab tonight.

"Thanks," I said, neglecting to mention that my meals were already on the house. I wasn't really in the mood to talk much.

A piece of chocolate cake was set in front of me.

"Should've mentioned your birthday was today," Ann said, "I could've made you a _whole _cake from scratch."

I shook my head, saying that I didn't like my birthday to be too big a deal. Karen then smacked me upside the head.

"Don't give me that, Magnus. You were pretty depressed that no one had remembered, and don't deny it."

Since there was nothing I could say to that, I just nodded and concentrated on my slice of cake.

It wasn't too bad, really, even if it _wasn't _some extravagant thing...

I actually hadn't been kidding when I said I didn't like my birthday to be too big of a deal. But then again, the little touches are so much better, in my opinion. That's what you cherish more, and remember with greater fondness. Big spectacles are for kids.

I ate quietly, talked for a while with Karen, Ann, and later on, Rick; and then headed up toward my room.

Cliff was there already, laying back and staring at the ceiling. Gray was in a corner, reading the same book I'd seen him with at the library. I took up the third bunk quietly, and fell right asleep without saying hello. It had been a pretty long day.

But nonetheless, I'd enjoyed it. Even if I was now about 1,000,000G in the hole, I had people who cared enough to give me a bit of consolation and some quiet company.

It wasn't much, but it was enough. It was really all I needed, when all was said and done.

A friend.

--

_**Author's Note:**__ Yes, it's back from the dead. At least, for now..._

_Again, my apologies for killing it. With this chapter, the 'Director's Cut Edition' is done, and we'll be going back to the system of me throwing a chapter out the moment I've finished spewing it onto the paper._

_Hopefully, I'll be done spewing on the next one shortly._

_Of course... With the teaser and the fact that I split a chapter in half... This is now __**technically **__Chapter 11. Silly irony, I know; but still amusing._


	12. A Day at the Races

**Canis Lupus**

_**Chapter Eleven: A Day at the Races (Marx Brothers **__**not**__** Invited)**_

--

**Year 1, Spring 16th (Tuesday)**

I woke up this morning to a very bad rash. Apparently Basil had led me through a pretty dense patch of poison ivy, and having less botanical knowledge than your average Boy Scout (I'd never managed to get very far in the program), I blundered right through it without even noticing.

Needless to say, putting my pants on that morning was something of a pain; and right up to some rather uncomfortable places, at that...

After getting dressed, I walked (very gingerly) down to the first floor of the inn to get some breakfast.

I know, normally I'd head to Rick's, but since this was closer (and Doug said the meals were included with the room anyway), I decided it wouldn't hurt to see what the Perch Inn's breakfast menu had to offer...

...When my breakfast arrived, I decided that falling upon Rick's mercy was probably still the better option.

It wasn't that the food was inedible. I'm _sure _there are people who enjoy burnt toast, slightly runny boiled eggs, and thick slices of onion over pickled fish. I've just got these things called taste buds, and they really didn't feel like committing suicide today...

And of course, the _drink _I was given was coffee.

I was pretty sure by that point that Ann was probably a _little _irritated with me...

Cliff, eating with gusto on the next stool over, accidentally picked up my mug and took a long swallow. By the way his eyes bugged out, I was guessing that Ann had added something _extra _to the brew.

"..._Woah!_ Man, what's in this stuff?"

"Damned if I know," I replied, "I was just given something to eat. Never mind that I don't _want _to eat any of it..."

"Order what you like, eat what you get, huh?"

I nodded. "Something like that. Considering the service though, I'm guessing I probably pissed off the waitress."

"Well, if you don't mind I think I'll order a refill of your mug. I've never _been _somewhere that _actually _served WTFU coffee before..."

I stared at him now, slightly in shock. I'd _known _he liked strong coffee from the first day I met him, but _Wake The ** Up_ coffee?

Not being a coffee-drinker myself, I'd really only _heard _of the stuff, but what I'd heard about it wasn't pretty...

"Hey Ann, gimme another mug of _this_ stuff. And maybe you could sneak in a bit of Tabasco sauce while you're at it?"

Ann, back at the bar now, had an expression of shock on her face similar to my own by this point. Shaking her head (but taking the mug anyway), she refilled Cliff's drink from a pot she had kept _carefully _separated from the regular stuff, added the aforementioned spice, and threw in a somewhat _less_-than-healthy shot of whiskey to boot...

She then handed it back to Cliff, and glared at me maliciously.

"If Cliff's eating your breakfast, you're going to have to pay for it."

I shrugged, left my money on the counter, and slid my plate over to Cliff, who looked to be in heaven. Apparently he didn't share my thoughts on what made a breakfast inedible.

And since I still needed to eat, I decided I'd head over to Rick's place and see if I could get a breakfast burrito to go...

--

"We're not a McDonald's, Magnus."

Guess not.

Well, since I couldn't keep Basil waiting any longer, I gave Rick my apologies and dashed, but not before a flying burrito nearly cost me another hat.

With a perfect smile, Lillia wished me well and put the paper hat away.

Needless to say, my humor was somewhat improved by the time I caught up with Dr. Jones. Even more so when I found him watering my plants...

"Impressive specimens, Magnus! I'm sure you get top dollar for them!"

I shrugged. Since I was still relatively new to the game, I didn't quite know the going price on the produce I was growing. And I'm pretty sure I'm not getting top dollar _just_ yet...

Well, while we finished dealing with my plants, May and Stu came over to help with my animals. Since I felt it only right to give the _entire_ tour, I went over to show Basil my chicken and my horse.

I could tell Basil wasn't as impressed by my animals, but I appreciated the effort he made to make the kids feel important. I did my best, but as you might've noticed, I'm a clumsy caretaker at best.

"Wait a minute, _what races?"_

And I'm not at my best right now...

"The Flower Bud Yards races, Magnus! Blitz'll be ready for them, you'll see!"

Basil laughed as I tried to explain that my horse, aside from being _entirely_ unsuited to racing, was also still to young to be ridden.

After May left (less distressed than I was worried she could've been), Basil helped fill me in on the local horse racing circuit. Turns out it was usually just farmers like myself with their plow horses anyway, and that the small handful of quarter horses and thoroughbreds in the area raced in their own tier, anyway.

"But you should still make a wager or two! The prizes they sell are usually worth the money, and from what my wife tells me, you've already made good friends with the two best gamblers in town!"

Hold it, _**WHAT?!**_

"And they would be..."

"Karen and Rick, of course! They've won consistently at both annual races for the past five years!"

Well, I thanked Basil for his time, he told me it was his pleasure; and that I should add some nitrogen fixers to my summer crops, and went along on his merry way.

And since my chores were done early, I didn't feel like heading for the hills, and I didn't have a home to hide out in yet... I figured I'd look for betting tips from Karen.

After all, there was a good chance she wouldn't kill me for it...

--

_**THUD!**_

Ok, so much for my chances...

I collected Karen's boot and sat down at the fountain I'd fallen into on my first day here. If she wanted it back _this _time, I was going to make her come to _me..._

"Morning, Magnus. How's your day been so far?"

I shrugged at Cliff, and went back to sentry duty.

"Whose boot is that?"

_**SLAM!**_

"Hers."

Needless to say, Karen was limping in our direction, her boot's partner jammed ineffectually on her left foot.

"You are the most insufferable, stuck-up, ridiculous, and arrogant pig I've _ever_ met, Magnus!"

"Good morning to you too, Karen. Met my friend Cliff yet?"

_**SPLASH!**_

Do I really need to spell out what just happened? At least she didn't retrieve her other shoe before I got it soaked...

When I got up, the world looked like an impressionist work. Of course, since I was missing my glasses, this was pretty typical. Apparently, Karen had knocked them off while shoving me into my impromptu bath.

Finding them, I was rewarded with an angry friend screaming insults at me for who-knows-what offense. For once, I was completely in the dark.

"You've got your boots on the wrong feet, Karen. Do you want me to push myself into the fountain again?"

"Oh please, allow me."

_**SPLASH!**_

Alright, I surrender. At least I've still got my glasses on this time.

"Wow. She really likes you, doesn't she?"

I looked at Cliff, shook my head, and gave my affirmatives.

"Well, at least you can take a pratfall..."

...And now he's _complimenting_ me on my humor? Oh _joy!_

"What're the girls around town so pissed at you about, anyway?"

"If I knew that, I'd have the secrets of the universe, Cliff. I probably just insulted someone without meaning to."

Cliff shrugged in sympathy. "Women."

"To quote an old dog, you can't live with 'em, you can't live without 'em. There's something irresistible-ish about 'em..."

Cliff chuckled. "The Muppets hold the secrets to your philosophy, then?"

I shrugged. "You work with what's best, whether it comes from a professor or a garbage man. At least they were entertaining... Hey, did you hear about the races tomorrow?"

Cliff nodded. "Ann told me to ask Karen for wagering tips, and told me she lived above the supermarket. I think we'd better ask later though, hm?"

I nodded in reply. "Yeah, talking to her right now might be slightly hazardous to your health. Don't worry though, she usually cools down in a week or two..."

"Ok, yeah... wait, _**WHAT?!"**_

My turn to laugh. "I've only gotten on her bad side... well, _twice _now... but I can tell she's the type who doesn't cool quickly."

"Makes it even worse that you like her then, huh?"

I shook my head. "Nah, worst part is that she's already involved with Rick. Later man."

For effect, imagine a cartoon-style stunned expression on Cliff's face at this point, complete with three-foot drop jaw.

Thus ended the interesting parts of the 16th of Spring.

--

**Year 1, Spring 17th (Wednesday)**

Fanfare blowing, the bell is about to ring. And they're _off!_

Well, the quarter mile here turns out to be the main road through town, with Barley's ranch as the finish line, and the starting point the west side of the square.

Makes sense to me, but I suppose a few purists are complaining about a lack of curves by now. You make the best out of what you've got, y'know? Besides, the first races probably started off as runs through a village anyway...

The racing horses went first, and that was what my money was on now. I'd bet fairly conservatively, going with low-payout odds and covering three different horses, just in case.

A shame I didn't have that money to lose, now isn't it?

Naturally, my three picks came in first, second, and third... _slowest._ One of them was running _backwards _at some point in the race, I was _sure _of it! And with that, I was out of the betting for the rest of the day.

You'd think I'd learn, wouldn't you?

Hiding my hat away for later, I decided to scope out the rest of the scene. Barley was watching over May and Stu while they watched the horses go, Elli was coming down from watching the finish line with a manic eye (I think she won, too), and Ann was running a refreshment stand with Cliff.

Apparently, they'd hit it off...

"Excuse me, fine sir..."

I jumped out of my skin. What the hell was _he _doing here!? Hadn't I ratted him _out_ before he could cause any trouble?

Apparently so, because Harris was watching him carefully as he ran a small prize stall on the main thoroughfare. Harris mouthed community service, and I understood.

He'd _nailed_ the bastard...

Waving my greetings, I moved along to the sidelines for the next race. Maybe I couldn't bet anymore, but it'd probably be fun to watch.

At the very _least,_ it'd be more fun than watching paint dry, and since I was on the wrong side of the track to go sulking into the inn...

"How'd you do?"

Karen. Undoubtedly here to rub salt in my wounds. Oh well, might as well hand her the box...

"My picks were spot-on; absolutely, unequivocally, _unquestioningly-"_

"Dead last, huh?"

"All three of them. Gimme a break, I haven't _played _the ponies before..."

Karen chuckled. "Well, you stick with Don Hayes, and she'll teach you a few things about how to win. Cross me again though, and you'll be sleeping with the fishes."

I nodded. "Glad you're not as pissed as you were yesterday, at least. And your Jersey accent is terrible, by the way."

She gave me a look which made it clear she didn't take me for anything but a clown. "You're talking to _me_ about bad impersonations? Don't worry, I talked Ann out of her snit after I realized the problem."

Problem? _"Problem? __**Me?!"**_

Karen gave me her 'You-can't-be-serious' look again.

"The problem is that you're so busy acting the clown as a defense that you're not always reading what people are really thinking. You're uncomfortable, scared, and stupid already, so you just play Scaramouch so people don't see you as a threat."

How does she _do _that?

"And of course, this means you're not always listening to what you say, meaning that you piss people off without even trying. I told Ann about it, and she calmed down. Trust me, she's an old hand at foot-in-mouth disease herself. Questions?"

"Just one. When did you develop psychic powers?"

Another cheap laugh, another lame answer, and we were off to examine the horses before the second race began.

Hopefully I could learn a thing or two before I lost the farm in these wagers...

--

Two more races, two more wins for Karen. We traded in her winnings (alongside Rick, who'd _also_ done well), watched Won attempt to perform _merciless_ favoritism with Karen, and headed home, prizes in hand.

Well, ok. I carried Karen's prizes to her place while she skipped around in exhilaration. Apparently, she's made a much larger killing than usual...

But we get up to her room, I dump the stuffed animals and cheap trinkets she'd bought off Won onto her desk, and bid her a good evening.

But not before she hands me a blue ocarina.

"I've already got one, and I want to thank you for the company tonight. Besides, I'm sure you could use an Ocarina of Time, right?"

I chuckled. "Well, maybe if I could _play_ the Song of Time, I could make this come in handy..."

Karen shook her head, laughing uncontrollably, and rummaged among a stack of songbooks on her bookshelf.

"I've got a few for ocarina, and an instrument might be a good outlet for you."

I shrugged. "Maybe, but I prefer to sing."

Karen started. "You can sing?"

"Well... not very well..."

With uncanny speed, Karen produced an acoustic guitar from some pile of buried junk, and immediately segued into a familiar cadence to me... _Old Fashioned Love Song._

Without even thinking, I started singing along. I didn't even miss the first cue.

It's an old folk/rock piece from the 70s, written by Paul Williams and performed most famously by Three Dog Night. Easy to play, easy to sing. I know the lyrics by heart, and even memorized a few variations. By the time we hit the chorus, I didn't even hear the guitar.

I did hear when Karen sang along though, in a gentle, easy alto. A voice built for folk and jazz, solid without being perfect.

The thing I noticed most though, was that she harmonized with me perfectly. Neither of us was modulating to match the other, and we both had chosen the same variation to sing...

As the final notes ended, Karen was shaking her head.

"You're about as bad as I am, I'd say. Which is good, because I've been looking for new help at the Music Festival..."

"Music Festival? I suppose this is tomorrow, then?"

Karen laughed. "No, it's not until late Fall. Take the ocarina anyway, and practice with it, ok? We've got plenty of time to work out a set."

My turn to laugh, and I thank Karen for the gift.

As I head toward the Inn, I can't help but whistle the chorus. By the time I get in for dinner, I'm singing it again. I even lead the overnighting jockeys in a rendition of it, no doubt well-lubricated by the free-flowing alcohol that was circulating well before I got inside.

In writing my journal, I wondered if the Marx Brothers had been somewhere nearby that day...

Then again, they only would've bothered if they'd specifically been banned. Even being dead wouldn't have stopped them if someone had gone to the trouble to throw them out of the party.

Hmm...

_Note: Next time, paint a big sign reading: __**MARX BROTHERS **__**NOT**__** INVITED.**_ _Could be interesting..._

Laughing at my own bad wit (as usual), I headed for bed.


	13. Old Fashioned Love Story

**Canis Lupus**

_**Chapter Twelve: Just an Old-Fashioned Love Story (or Five...)**_

--

**Year 1, Spring 18th (Thursday)**

_Just an old-fashioned love song, comin' down in three-part harmony..._

_Just an old-fashioned love song, one I'm sure they wrote for you and me..._

After digging up my MP3 player (and recharging its dead batteries), I spent most of my day listening to that song again. And again. And again. And again.

And again.

_And_ again...

_And... _well, I _did_ take a break to let May listen to some classics from _The Muppet Movie,_ but that was pretty much the only interruption.

I offered to let Stu listen as well, but he just traced out a square and ran off. Guess his machismo doesn't allow him to listen to anything as cliché as The Muppets, Three Dog Night, The Monkees, or other equally bread-and-butter groups.

Maybe I'd get around to teaching him a thing or two about what _real_ music was about when he got older. Right now he was too _young _to listen to my KISS albums...

But that was this morning, and it's afternoon now. I've just picked up my axe, and now I'm hanging out in the library, catching up on my reading.

What? Forage? I can handle that in an hour or two, and it'll be more comfortable in the evening. It's been getting warmer lately, and I've decided it's better to stay _out_ of the afternoon sun for now.

Yes, I remember that I owe Gotz 1500G. And seriously, I _am_ working on it. But I'm also working on learning more about the local area, and how to profit from it...

"So, where do we vote for which girl represents this Harvest Goddess?"

...Ok, I'm just studying the local festival traditions. But seriously, this festival's coming up on the 23rd, and I want to try and get it _right, _for once...

At least Mary's willing to answer my questions... even if it _is_ all-too clear she'd rather I leave her to her books...

...It's not that she's hostile... just scared of me. I suppose I have that effect on some people, though I'm not entirely sure _why..._

"W-well... voting's in the square, but it's usually just a couple's thing..."

I raised an eyebrow, and asked if she could clarify that for me.

"Um... well..."

"Never mind, I'll just get out of your way. Sorry to bother you."

Mary blushed, nodded, and shrank further behind her desk.

*sigh* I really wish I knew _why_ she thought I was going to eat her...

Well, knowing how Gray quietly watched her, I'm sure I'd find out from him tonight. Likely in the form of one of his angry monologues, at that...

I liked Gray well enough, but sometimes he could be a little serious for my tastes. Almost reminds me of one of my brothers, actually...

Ah, there's the voting box. Conveniently hidden right in the middle of the square, where anyone who wasn't blind as a bat would clearly see it.

"Ah, Magnus. Going to vote for the Goddess, are you?"

I turn, and find myself square with three middle-aged housewives. Hmm... now didn't Mary say something about this being a couples' thing?

Apparently, I'm going to be subjected to public humiliation for my troubles...

"Good morning, Mrs. Hayes, Mrs. Jones. How are you today?"

The third one (Manna, I think her name was) answered me.

"Oh, they're fine dear. Who are you going to vote for, hm? Is it possible that you've already found someone in your life? Well, probably not Mary, she's too shy to attract anyone like you. Oh, excuse me Anna, I never meant."

"It's alright, Manna," Anna replied, "My daughter _does_ need to take better charge of her life..."

"Well, anyway, your infamous little spat with Elli might've sparked something... after all, you watch after her little brother now, don't you? Well, it's really charitable of you, that boy hasn't been right since his parents died."

"He just works for me, and Elli still dislikes me. I'm not _exactly_ her typ-"

"Oh, of course not. Well, maybe that Ann girl, then. She's such a tomboy, but I've heard she's gotten attached to a young transient who recently moved in..."

_**"PLEASE, STOP!**_ I'm just passing by, ok? Gimme a break, already!"

Instantly, three sets of eyes bore through my soul. Anna was the first to chime in.

"My dear boy, if you're going to-"

_**"NO.**_ First off, I'm not 'Your Dear Boy.' Second off, I don't give a damn about your opinion or anyone else's. And third off, I rather dislike it when people butt into my life uninvited. So please, keep your opinions to yourselves, ladies._**"**_

"Well, I never-"

"Then I'd say it's time and a half someone did. _**Good day, ladies."**_

And with that, I stormed off towards the mountains.

--

I was chopping wood about a quarter mile north of town when someone found me. Since they weren't at the head of a lynch mob, I'd consider it a good sign.

Of course, since Karen was the person approaching me, I was still considering making a break for Waffle Island...

"Mom sent me to find you, said you'd had a bit of a blow-up."

I sighed. "I've got a few issues with middle-aged housewives talking about me."

Karen chuckled. "So do I. It's why my mom suffers through the double-trouble of Manna and Anna gossiping. Last time they started talking about me, I did _far _worse than tell them off!"

"Hurricane Karen's struck someone who wasn't me? _There's_ a new one..."

"Ha ha. Am I _really_ that much of a terror to you?"

"Didn't you throw a boot at me the other day?"

"I thought that was just our way of saying hello!"

"You also pushed me into a fountain."

"You needed a bath. Don't you _ever _take one?"

"Every morning. Farming's dirty business, after all. But calling me names is inexcusable."

"No, it isn't. The excuse is that you're a jerk, and you deserve every word."

"Now that would be very hurtful, if it wasn't true..."

At this point, Karen's rolling on the ground. I'm now sitting on the tree stump I was victimizing earlier, laughing like a fool myself.

"Thanks Karen. I needed that."

She merely smiled and nodded.

"I'll let you get back to work. By the way, the only safe time to vote is after dark. Even then, you're going to get The Amazing Renning Sisters watching you from a bedroom window."

"I'll keep that in mind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got 1500G to collect. I'd rather not have Gotz feeding me to the bears."

"Nah, don't worry. Gotz knocked all their teeth out years ago. He uses them for nails."

"All the better reason to pay him off as soon as I can. My teeth aren't good enough to be nails."

And that's when she nearly chopped my foot off. Well, to be more accurate, _I_ nearly chopped my foot off; but if she hadn't kissed me on the cheek it wouldn't have been an issue...

"Careful out here, Magnus. Mom told me she's going to watch out for you as well, but I'd rather you not wind up needing another visit to the clinic."

"Worried I'd actually wind up falling for Elli after all?"

Karen shook her head. "Nah, I'm worried she'd kill you if you gave her the opportunity. If someone's going to murder you, it'll be _me_ who gets the honor!"

"Gee, thanks."

"Anytime."

"Right."

And with that, Karen headed off, and I got back to work.

I actually thought she was pretty nice. A pity she was off-limits, but I'd deal with that as best as I could. Besides, maybe I could still show a little... _anonymous_ affection...

Tradition was that you voted for the girl you considered most worthy to be a goddess herself to represent the Harvest Goddess at the festival.

I think I've made _my _choice already...

--

**Year 1, Spring 19th (Friday)**

"Take care of this, please. I'd rather not have to fix it again in a week."

"Of course not, Master Saibara. Your craftsmanship is well worth taking care of."

Saibara hmphed. "Heard about your little outburst yesterday. Wasting energy arguing with stupid busybodies does you no good, and quite a bit of harm. Keep your nose clean next time, boy."

I nodded, and headed off. Anymore, I was beginning to see where Gray got his habit of spewing diatribe... his grandfather seemed to be a master of the ancient art.

"I'm surprised he let you go so easily. Normally he takes about an hour to shut up when I do something that dumbassed."

I shrugged. "At least _you've _only hit the 15-minute mark so far. By the way, I'll try to avoid the library when I can, but I _do_ have to pick up or drop off books sometimes..."

Gray stared me down as if I'd committed murder.

"You bother her, she's scared of you."

"Well, that's her problem."

A blacksmith's hammer suddenly found itself pointed at me.

"It's _my_ problem too, understand?"

"Fine, whatever. A few things you ought to note, though."

"And they are?"

"One, you can't shelter her from the whole world. You'd do better to teach her how to deal with it instead. Two, don't get so attached to someone you're scared to even talk to. And three-"

My hammer came up, stopping just shy of Gray's temple.

"Don't point that at me unless you intend to use it. I'm impressed that you didn't flinch, though..."

Walking away, I heard a harsh cawing coming from the direction of the smithy.

_Seems I just saved Saibara a good hour's work..._

--

"Try this one."

"Wow, that's _amazing!_ Where did you get your hands on eggplant this good, anyway? They're _way_ out of season..."

Ann and Cliff were sitting at the table by the kitchen door, trading bites of an eggplant parmesan that tasted more like an ashtray than anything else.

Ann can cook. I've _tasted_ food she's cooked, and she isn't that bad naturally. But somehow, I get the idea that her _personal_ sense of taste is a little... _off..._

Damn it, after watching Cliff eat a breakfast she'd specially ruined for me, I _knew_ his was...

"Interesting way to get each other's attention, I'll say that much..."

I merely nodded as Doug passed over my steak dinner. I'd taken a bite of the eggplant, thinking I might try some myself... _blech!_ I ordered a personal favorite immediately to get the taste out of my mouth.

Normally I wouldn't order something as nice as a choice top sirloin, but since the meals were on the house while mine was getting renovated...

"I've got better cuts, you know..."

I shook my head as I cut my first piece. Choice sirloin can be a little tough sometimes, but I really prefer it over more expensive cuts for flavor.

Oh, and by the way... if you don't want me to kill you, you'd _better _know how to cook it medium-rare...

"Trust me Doug, I'm fine with this. The fries are good too, and I like how you do your cabbage here..."

"Thank _yourself _for the sides. I buy vegetables right off Zack before he ships them off, and I've found that the ones coming off your farm are pretty good quality."

I looked down at my plate, and tried piecing together my side dishes into whole vegetables.

_Hmm... now that he mentions it, they __**do**__ look rather familiar..._

Ah, who cares? They're delicious, and I can't take _all_ the credit...

"Doesn't matter about the raw materials, _you've_ done me the service of not spoiling them. Got anything you want me to grow for you?"

"Now that you mention it..."

Doug looked over at his daughter and Cliff, now finishing their plate.

"Grow me some decent eggplants, _please."_

I smirked, faced my plate, and landed rather firmly onto it.

Now, the _reason_ I've just taken a dive into my dinner can be firmly noted as a 6' tall middle-aged gentleman, drunk off his ass and looking like he's ready for murder. However, since I can't really see much but a pound of cow meat at the moment, it's _mostly _an educated guess.

Well, keep in mind that the partially-coherent rant I'm hearing over my shoulder is a _big _clue...

"Enough, Duke. The boy was just enjoying his dinner before you came in. I'm not even sure he knows what's bothering you. Sit down, and you can discuss it civilly."

And maybe he could, at that. But something tells me that 'Duke' isn't particularly _interested _in being civil...

"With _that _boy? I might as well teach a _Neanderthal _how to dance ballet!"

"Then you can leave, Duke. And I won't be giving you anything to drink tonight, so don't even ask. You know my rules."

A moment of tension, as the two gentlemen I was carefully playing dead between stared each other down... and then Duke turned and skulked away.

I got up from my food, and asked for an extra napkin.

"Duke Johnson's a good man at heart, but he's a little too fond of alcohol. Hope he didn't make you too uncomfortable..."

"Uncomfortable? I just spent a whole minute and a half pressing my face into a top-rate steak dinner while some incoherent geezer screamed over me. Why the _hell _would I be uncomfortable?"

"Could be worse, man. He could've fired you."

"That would be assuming that I worked for him in the first place, Cliff. And, as usual, I have _no_ idea why someone's pissed at me now..."

"Probably because you told off his wife yesterday. Though it'd be the first time he's listened to Manna in a _long_ while..."

"Don't talk like that, Ann. Their problems are their own business."

Ann blushed and looked down.

"Sorry, dad."

Well, as fun as this was to watch, I felt it'd probably be best to finish my meal and duck out while I could.

Of course, as I considered what had just happened... well, one basic thought came to mind when I wrote up the summation in my journal that night.

_Par for the course._

--

**Year 1, Spring 20th (Saturday)**

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, you know..."

"Well, _my _name isn't Jack. And this _has _to get done before I can take a rest, or else all my hard work will end up rotting in the fields."

Karen laughed, and headed over to lend me a hand with harvesting my latest crop.

"Figures I'd get roped into working on my day off..."

_"You're_ not up to your eyeballs in someone else's debt."

"Actually, I am. But thanks for the concern."

"Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot about that..."

"No problem. Besides, you're proving to be a good customer; so I'm not gonna get on _your_ case about my family's problems. Anyway, I heard you met Duke last night."

"I met a drunken old man who slammed my nose into a plate and ranted in my general direction. And from my perspective, I didn't really see too much."

Karen just shook her head.

"How do you take it so nonchalantly, anyway?"

"I remind myself that I deserve it."

The rest of the harvest went quietly, and I got out my hammer and axe to work on the bigger obstacles my field had grown.

"Do you really believe you deserve everything you get?"

I shrugged, and got to work on a particularly large boulder.

"Usually I do. Maybe you haven't noticed, but I can be something of a jerk sometimes."

"Yeah, it's so hard to tell. You make Kai look like a saint sometimes."

"Who?"

"You'll meet him this summer, I'm sure. He's another transient, but for some reason he tends to get on Rick's nerves."

"I guess I'll have to ask him about it sometime."

At this point, the Hunter residence exploded. Popuri, screaming at a level I'd never heard before, shouted some obscene references at an equally angry Rick before storming off in the wake of her own destructive force.

"Personally, Magnus... I don't recommend it. I'm gonna see if I can get this resolved, so don't kill yourself in the meantime."

I nodded as she traveled off, and got back to work on the Sisyphean boulder.

And actually, I think I managed to get _most _of the larger debris cleared... before I keeled over mid-afternoon...

--

**Year 1, Spring 21st (Sunday)**

"I told you Elli, you don't get to kill him."

"I'd be doing the town a _favor."_

"And I get to be the one to do it, or have you forgotten that?"

Wow. That ceiling looks familiar... where am I?

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, ladies, but I'm afraid I can't allow voluntary manslaughter in here. It tends to leave a bad atmosphere in a clinic..."

I'm in the clinic? Wow, when did _that_ happen?

"Alright, let me drag him outside first, then."

"Not until I release him, and that won't be until tomorrow. He's pushed himself too hard, and needs a full day to recover."

"At least I got the field cleared..."

Oops. I just said that out loud, didn't I?

"Magnus, I'm going to your farm now. In five minutes, those fields of yours will be burning nicely. And then I'm going to head out into the woods, find the heaviest boulders I can move, and scatter them across your farm. I'll be _starting_ by throwing one onto your house, too."

And with that, Karen stormed off. Since I was currently incapacitated, I sincerely hoped she wouldn't find a match.

"Nice to know you're feeling yourself, Magnus. However, I really _would _suggest watching what you say when you regain consciousness..."

"Got any water? I feel like I'm drowning."

"He's still disoriented. Elli, get the Turbojolt and a glass of water please."

In moments, I felt a small tablet at my lips. Swallowing it dry, I then took a sip of the water that had been put into my field of vision.

Well, things _were_ starting to make more sense now...

"Alright, I'm going to see to Gotz, make sure that he's not overworking himself. _Please_ don't kill the patient while I'm gone, Elli."

Was that a _blush _I saw on Elli's cheeks? Well, _well..._

Dr. Harding was out the door before I started chuckling.

All I remember after that was Elli saying something about cranial anesthetic...

--

**Year 1, Spring 22nd (Monday)**

I woke up this morning feeling refreshed and aching. I think Elli hit me just a little _too_ hard...

"Ah, Magnus. What are the capitals of Great Britain, France, and Italy?"

After answering correctly, I was given another shot of Turbojolt, an Ibuprofen for my headache, and sent on my merry way.

And so I went off to find that my fields had been sown and watered while I was out. Not only that, but my animals had been properly looked after, the weeding was done, and Gotz had found the rest of his money hidden behind my front door that morning.

"You can move in tomorrow evening, and I'll guarantee the work for a lifetime."

"Yours or mine?"

"At the rate you're going, probably mine. Watch yourself more carefully, kid."

I nodded, and asked if he'd seen anyone skulking about yesterday.

"Nah, they must've been here and gone before or after I got to work. Did a pretty good job keeping things ticking over for you, though..."

"Yeah, I suppose they did. Wish I could thank them for it..."

Gotz laughed. "Don't worry about it, they probably just want to stay anonymous. Just be grateful someone wants you to succeed, that's my opinion."

I thanked him for his opinion, and decided to go help Rick out.

I had the feeling Rick would need the help...

--

After a hard day of feeding chickens, gathering eggs, chasing runaways, getting pecked, and otherwise fearing for my life, Rick decided to let me go.

"You're not too bad at this. Better than my sister, at least..."

I just shrugged. "I think I'll leave the large-scale operations to you. How do _you _manage?"

Rick sat down on his front porch and sighed. "Because I have to. Mom's not in any shape to work out here, Dad's not coming back, and Popuri..."

"That reminds me, what _was_ Pink blowing up about yesterday?"

And so, Rick told me all about his troubles with his sister, how she was attracted to a young man that he was convinced was trash, how she _never_ got any of her chores done right when he asked her to help, and how she complained that he wasn't letting her help at all anymore.

"You understand though, right? I can't spend all my time undoing her mistakes, I'm too over-worked as it is."

I nodded, since I actually _did_ understand. Rick _was_ overworked, and probably putting too much on himself to keep his standards up.

_I wonder if I can get him __**out **__of this mess he's stuck in?_

Well, Rick and I headed to the inn after that, and we just sat and meditated for a while. Most of what I was thinking of was this upcoming festival, though...

You see, I had a bit of a plan in mind. I could see that most of the town's teens-to-twenties set had more or less paired up with each other, but most of them needed a bit of a push to get on with it.

And tomorrow, an Atomic Magnus was going to shake things up...


	14. The Faerie Dance

**Canis Lupus**

_**Chapter Thirteen: The Faerie Dance**_

--

**Year 1, Spring 23rd (Tuesday)**

_"And a goooood morning to you from NOIZ __**Loooowd**__ Radio! This is __**Dee**__-Jay Cliff Mason- _OW!"

"Getting his own for waking me up at _**five**__ in the __**morning.**_I thought I _warned_ you about that sort of thing, Cliff..."

I merely laughed while I finished packing my stuff up. Cliff and Gray had been at each others' throats every morning I'd been here. Fortunately I was up around the same time Cliff was, so his 'wake-up calls' never bothered me.

I figured I'd better give him some advice before he got himself killed, though...

"Hey Cliff, take this box and follow me."

"Huh? Alright, no problem..."

Once I'd gotten Cliff out into the pre-dawn air, I warned him about letting sleeping dogs lie.

"Oh c'mon, he shouldn't be missing this air and you know it!"

"Cliff, most of us aren't morning people. And if you bother Gray much more, he's going to tear you apart."

"What do you mean most of _us?_ In case you haven't noticed, _you're_ up, _you're_ going, and gee, _what _time is it again?"

_*sigh* _Some people you just can't save...

"I run a farm, Cliff. Set hours are before dawn. Gray works for his grandfather, and shop hours for him start around nine."

"And I don't work for anyone, but I'm up like this all the time."

"Because you're a freak of nature. Now shut up, stop bugging Gray when he's most likely to kill you, and help me get this stuff into my house."

Rolling my eyes and muttering about happy fools, I opened the door on my newly-refurbished home.

The paint on the walls wasn't quite dry yet, and I could see where fixtures still needed to be installed, but it actually looked like a house now. As promised, I had a bathroom and kitchen... but there was also a separate bedroom and a comfortable sitting room; complete with a TV nook, a solid-looking bookshelf ensconced in the wall... and an easy chair the size of a small sofa.

Clearly I'd have to see about sending Gotz a tip. I wonder what he'd accept...

"Wow. I'm moving in here with _you!"_

"Fat chance, Cliff. But I _certainly_ appreciate the upgrade in living conditions!"

"You're welcome!"

And the man of the hour popped up from under my kitchen sink.

"Figured I'd get things started early today, maybe get it done in time for the festival. Not bad for a quick re-paint though, isn't it?"

Re-paint?_ This!?_ Ok, I can play that game...

"Sure, looks as if I _almost_ got my money's worth, too..."

Gotz laughed while Cliff backed as far away as he could.

"And you talk to _me_ about courting death..."

"Don't worry, kid. I'm _much _slower than that in taking offense. Especially since I _damn_ well know the kind of job I did in here! Now, leave those boxes over by the chair, and I'll unpack them when I'm done with the paint."

We nodded, and set my measly two boxes of personal belongings right where he told us.

"Is _that _it?" Gotz asked. "I think you've been on the road too long, Magnus. Even _I've_ got more junk than that..."

I shrugged.

"I don't get too attached to stuff. If I can't carry it with me, I usually don't bother packing it."

Gotz scratched at his beard, and gave out a quiet 'hmph' in response.

"Just wait 'til you're married, kid. You'll learn... ah well. Get out of here, you two. I've got work to finish up, and so do you."

And with that, the two of us nodded and went on our separate ways.

--

Skipping breakfast had probably been a bad idea, but since I wanted to get my chores done as quickly as I could, I decided I couldn't wait for service to start at the Perch Inn. I got the weeding, watering, and animal work done in record pace (for me, at least), and even got the latest crop of cabbages in.

I almost regretted that they'd be my last of the season...

Ah well. I finished my chores right around the time Gotz finished on my house. Thanking him again for his top-quality work, I headed straight into the shower. For once, I didn't want to head straight from my chores to a local event.

After cleaning up, drying off, and combing out my hair to the best of my ability (a little hard with the wild mane I'd grown lately), I headed for the new bedroom and changed into my better clothes.

When I got to a mirror, I was suitably impressed.

_Brown dress shoes, comfortable and stylish, khaki slacks (which actually __**fit**__ now; all that hard work's starting to pay off), and a button-down shirt in a stunning sapphiric blue. Excellent!_

_Now for the final touch..._

Out of a special box I'd hidden away, I pulled out my dress fedora. A pinch-front crowned, snap-brimmed, wool-felt luxury in Villainous Black. _Well _worth the 5000G I paid for it; and if there was _any_ time to break it out, it was today.

Now, I've got the work done. I've got my look down. _And _I've got a little cash to burn.

I think it's time to hit the town, don't you?

--

The air is perfumed with the scent of flowers as I enter Rose Square. Stalls have been set up again, but this time they mark the border of the event, instead of being the event themselves. Bronze statues of a rather attractive-looking young woman have been set up on the corners of the dancing floor that Harris and Mayor Thomas are currently setting up.

All-in-all, this looks to be _the_ springtime event around here...

"Ah, Magnus."

Jeff, looking about as stressed as he usually does, beckons me over to a half-constructed stall by the store. I headed over, figuring he probably needed a hand setting things up.

"Karen wanted to get your opinion on something, could you go talk to her please? She's up in her room right now."

Huhwhat? Oh. I guess I should've known that Jeff could handle things without a second pair of hands...

"Um... ok. I'll do that."

Strutting up to Karen's room as manfully as I could, I stopped a moment at the top of the stairs to admire the view. The square looked absolutely idyllic from here, the festival decorations setting the scene for a positively breathtaking landscape piece. It was rather a pity that I'd left my camera at home. Then again, I was out of batteries for it anyway, so it didn't really matter.

Suddenly, the door I'd been leaning on swung inward, and I swung with it. Fortunately, I'd caught myself on the jamb before I swung right into the floor.

Unfortunately, I swung right into Karen's cleavage instead.

After about two seconds of absolute joy, I suddenly found myself making my appointment with the floor after all, since Karen's foot was _ever_ so willing to give me a ride...

"You are _not_ going to ruin that dress with his blood, Karen. Now get off of him before he gets an even _better _view..."

Sasha, giggling like a woman half her age, picked my hat up off the floor by Karen's slippered feet. Come to think of it, those feet _were_ very nice to look at while out of their usual hiking boots... and maybe if I tried to follow that upward...

Ah, never mind. Somehow, I doubt that I'd get a chance to survive following through such an idea. Keep in mind, I've got an angry Karen glaring down at me. That's kind of a _hint,_ y'know?

With some reluctance, I got up off the floor.

"Sorry about that, I was leaning on the door when you opened it."

Karen, now leaning against the wall, simply rolled her eyes. She didn't really say anything, but then again, she didn't have to. _Of course you were_ was written across her expression as plain as day. Sasha, still laughing in a _most_ inappropriate manner for someone her age, chose this moment to intervene.

"The view from outside that window _is_ quite nice this time of year... but I believe Karen asked you up here for a reason."

Of course, I could guess what the reason _was_ from the moment I dropped in. The dress she was apparently wearing to the festival was quite stunning, a flowery thing of pink silk and white lace that was _clearly_ designed to bring springtime and dancing to mind. She was wearing dancing slippers that matched the dress, and a supercilious smirk that told me she knew _exactly_ how nice she looked in all of this.

Taking my hat back from Sasha, I gave the only honest answer I could while I dusted myself off.

"You look nice, Karen."

She simply rolled her eyes again.

"This dress is the one the girl playing the Harvest Goddess wears every year. I'm glad you think I look good in it, but that wasn't what I asked you up here for."

"Huh?"

Oh, wonderful. Now Sasha's laughing at me again...

"I'm sorry, Karen's forgetting that you didn't grow up around here. It's traditional for a young man of the village to formally introduce the Harvest Goddess to the Harvest King at the start of the festival. Who will do so is often left up to the girl playing the role of Goddess that year, and Karen decided she'd like _you_ to play the part."

After absorbing all of this, I simply nodded my head in acceptance and asked for some cue cards.

"Fortunately," Sasha told me, "I happen to have thought of that."

--

And so, half an hour's practice finds me here, walking toward the square alongside Karen with as much quiet dignity as I can muster. Karen's expression is one of self-confidence and solemn poise, but I can tell it's just a mask. She's simply trying to act the way she feels a Goddess should, and I'm not _entirely_ sure that she's not scared out of her mind that one of us is going to screw this up.

I'm not _quite_ as worried, but that's probably because this isn't too important to me. My role in this little play is a secondary one, and it doesn't seem like that big a deal to me. As far as I can tell, this is just a spring pageant; a small play re-enacting the mythical creation of the land that Mineral Town stands on. These sorts of things are dime-a-dozen in small towns, and I've participated in more than a few of them in some way or another.

And now we've reached Rose Square, having followed the road that leads down from Mother's Hill, and the _real_ ceremony began...

Mayor Thomas, standing on the stage, begins with the narration:

"Three hundred years ago," he intones, "A beautiful goddess and an arrogant king warred for the land that would become our town."

From there, I simply watch and listen to the spectacle. Apparently, the Harvest King had been a mortal who wanted to settle here and cultivate the land, and the Goddess decided that she didn't want him for a neighbor. The end result, of course, is chaos.

"And this is when the Kappa, who is a trickster of considerable merit, chose to intervene."

Ah, that's my cue.

"Goddess," I proclaim, "How fair thou art in countenance and spirit, and how wise thou art in the ways of our land and all around it! Tell me, what is the purpose of such beauty and knowledge if there are none others who may bask within it?"

The Goddess looks downcast, and admits the truth in my words.

"And you, mighty king. Your strength is great, and your heart is true. But what purpose is there to destroying the spirit of the land if thine only purpose is to carve a kingdom for yourself?"

The Harvest King (played _rather respectably _by Rick) questions what the green imp means.

"The Goddess and the land are one. To defy one is to defy the other. To destroy one is to destroy the other, and likely yourself with it. Though you act with no malice, defeating the Goddess as you intend to will desecrate the land, leaving not a blade of grass nor a creature of the smallest stature alive within her domain. Furthermore, the land will grow barren; and no thing will ever again find sustenance upon this soil."

The king nods in respect, telling the kappa that his points are valid ones.

"Then may I suggest a compromise? My insight is vast, and should you join as one, I see a future both bright and promising for you both."

"And so," Thomas narrates, "upon this day was the Harvest King was wed, to both the Goddess and the land that she held power over, and Mineral Town was founded. Some say that the descendants of the Harvest King live here still, and that even now they rule over the land as its rightful masters.

"Now, let us celebrate the anniversary of that blessed union, and remember always what we owe the land, and what the land owes us in return. For the Goddess is the land, and as long as we honor Her, so shall the land honor us."

I missed the cue for the "Amen" at the end, but then again I wasn't trying for it. With that, the 'King' and the 'Goddess' opened the dancing, and the buffet and party stalls were officially open. Being a man of set priorities, I hit the buffet first.

After I'd gathered a plate of food and headed for a corner, I started wondering about the story that I'd just re-enacted. It sounded like it had a basis in fact, but it also sounded like someone had started this tradition based on a bedside fairy-tale they'd heard a time too often. I got the feeling that the _real_ story was probably a little simpler, and that the 'Goddess' probably wasn't _quite_ so divine...

Well, I figured I probably knew who to ask about it, and made a quick mental note to do just that when I had some time later. Meanwhile, this set's over, and _**THE PLAN**_ needs to go into action...

The kappa walks along, choosing the partner for his first dance carefully. All eyes in town are upon him, and that's _just_ what he's after...

With unerring confidence, I walk along; making sure that the right eyes see me eyeing the wrong girl. So far, so good: Cliff and Gray have both shifted to a position where they can snatch their chosen partners away. Elli, watching me stride towards her, manages to deftly place herself beside her boss.

And I walk right past her, stopping by a frail old woman in a wheelchair instead.

"Ellen, may I have the honor of this dance?"

Said frail old woman laughed maniacally, and accepted without any further hesitation.

--

Now, dancing with someone who can't stand under their own power is tricky, but I managed to do a couple of sets with Ellen with a passable grace. Next I danced with May, who was rather thrilled to participate with the 'grown-ups.' As the music continued, I actually made it a point to dance with _every _girl who was present- that is, every girl _except_ the ones who were around my age.

Oh, I did a round with Popuri, but only because she didn't have a partner and I was getting tired of watching her sulk. I probably should've danced with the others, but each of them had a partner that they alone would dance with... well, except Karen, but unfortunately she seemed to be as busy as I was keeping the unattached _men _of the town in the festivities...

Karen and I ultimately did a set to close things out, but that was just a festival tradition. After it was all over at sundown, I found a bench and sat down at last.

Of course, by _this _point my feet felt like I'd walked from here to Arkansas...

"Not bad, Farmboy."

I looked up from my panting, and noticed a glass of water with Karen's hand attached to it.

"I'm rather impressed," she continued. "Not only did you manage to out-maneuver Manna and Anna's little guessing game, but you _also_ managed to get Gray and Mary to start _participating_ in this thing! Honestly, that boy's been here for five years now, has been eyeing Mary not-so-subtly ever since he showed up, and you just-"

"An untrustworthy soul is in possession of the finest tool a manipulative bastard can have," I reply. "Once I knew I had their attention, the rest was a cinch."

Karen laughed, and sat down beside me.

"And asking _Ellen_ of all people-"

_"That_ was a personal obligation. Ellen's helped me adjust here, in ways no one else could have."

"And if Elli should _just happen_ to assume you're going to publicly embarrass her by asking her to dance first..."

"Well, I can _hardly_ control how other people think, now can I?"

The horribly self-satisfied smirk on my face should be noted at this point, as should the fact that Karen has been fighting _very_ hard to keep her laugh down...

"I'm starting to think she's right to distrust you. You'll stoop to anything, won't you?"

I simply continue smiling as I slowly nod the affirmative.

"Well then, I've only got one more thing to do before I head home and change out of these clothes."

"And what's that?" I ask, all-too-innocently.

Karen slapped me hard across the face, called me an arrogant piece of shit, and stormed off for home; laughing all the way.

I snap out a "Fine, then!" and do the same.

All-in-all, it's been a pretty good day...


End file.
